Surviving Paradise
by drdit92
Summary: A cowardly betrayal leaves Rick Rodgers and Kate Beckett fighting for their lives. Can they learn to rely on the other; will it lead to something more? What happens when they return from exile and the world learns the truth? A/U. Complete. Giant hugs to who've taken a chance on this story and followed to the end. Which is just a beginning...
1. Chapter 1: A Tangled Web of Lies

**This chapter is dedicated to Garrae, who has read every word of this story. For offering me cheers when I was uncertain, and gentle corrections when I got carried away. Thank you so much for all of your support and words of wisdom. One of the many pleasures I've had in writing this story has been getting to know you better. Thanks so much, my friend. You rock.**

* * *

For want of a nail, the shoe was lost,

For want of a shoe, the horse was lost,

For want of a horse, the rider was lost,

For want of a rider, the message was lost,

For want of a message, the battle was lost,

For want of a battle, the war was lost,

For want of a war, the kingdom was lost,

For want of a nail, the world was lost

-T. Rundgren

* * *

**March 2010**

Tamahere stood on the beach, toes sinking into warm sand while soft waves lapped the shore in front of him. The azure sky nearly matched the blue of the ocean, making the entire world appear to be a giant sapphire, unmarred by any other color.

Recognizing the start of the nightmare that had haunted him for the last ten years, he shook his head, trying to wake up before he had to relive the catastrophe one more time, if only in his dreams.

It didn't work. It never did, though he strained and bucked against the tentacles of the past that still could reach forward and pin him in place, helpless against the tide of memories and guilt.

Grimacing, he turned and began to walk along the coast. It was always the same view: nothing but sand in front of him, endless sea to his right, and the verdure of the jungle to his left.

Desolate emptiness gave rise to an anxiety he couldn't suppress. Every single nightmare—and he'd had hundreds, maybe thousands, of the _same _damn dream—panicked him as he surveyed the uninhabited wilderness. He'd begin to run, but no matter how fast or how long he sped nothing changed. He was alone; abandoned in the middle of nowhere.

Sometimes, on his lucky nights, he'd wake up at this point. His heart would race as he wondered if there was _any_ chance _this_ had been their fate. That they'd still been alive and had somehow made it to an island. Had lived despite the long, near-impossible odds. Had carved out a home in such a forsaken place.

He'd rock in bed, keening, as he imagined passing day by empty day without a hint of a rescue mission; a mission they'd so deserved but had never been mounted. When none had arrived, would they have despaired? Would they have tried to build a boat in a desperate bid for salvation? Or would they stay put, waiting for the recovery that never came? Could they still be waiting, after all this time?

On bad nights, like tonight, he wouldn't awaken on the island. Instead, he'd be running in the sand, sweat dripping down his face and harsh panting drowning out the sound of the ocean and then suddenly he'd be _in_ the sea. A wave crashing over him, unable to catch his breath; lungs dying for just one more taste of air. At the last moment, sure he was ready to inhale nothing more than salt water, it would finally break.

He'd then find himself in a boat. Not just any boat: _the_ boat. The lifeboat that had enabled him to survive the wreck a decade earlier. The one in which he'd sat, unmoving, as he and his two companions cast off from their crippled ship and left Rick and Kate to their unknown fate.

This part of the nightmare wasn't imagined: it _had_ happened all those years ago. Sometimes the remainder of the dream was a rehash of the exact events that had actually taken place: their survival. Their celebrated rescue.

His ensuing descent into madness.

But tonight wasn't a bad night. Tonight was much, much worse.

"Tamahere, wait for me," cried his best friend and crewmate. A man given the Polynesian name Hopo; born Richard Rodgers, but known to the world at large as Richard Castle. "I'm here. I'm alive. Please, wait."

Tamahere tried to stand, but found his legs wouldn't support his weight. The storm was raging around him, just as it had in real life. He wanted to get up; to seek out Hopo's voice. No matter how he struggled, he was held fast in place.

"Tamahere, help me. Hold the boat, please." That was Kate Beckett's voice. He'd not known her well, but that didn't lessen his guilt over having left her behind.

"Tamahere," their voices mingled. "Help us. Please, help us."

The boat was moving, pulling away from the wreck at a rapid pace. He peered with all his might at the hulk, through the veil of the pouring rain. Gasping, he shivered when he saw the faint outline of two bodies. Arms pointed at him, either in supplication or in blame.

Perhaps both.

Breaking free of his invisible bonds, he stood up, rocking the life boat wildly and earning the shouts and disapprobation of his comrades. They wouldn't consider going back; screamed at him to sit. To stop. Crumpling back to his seat, he couldn't bear to watch. Covering his ears to silence the anguished screams, his shoulders shook as his chest tightened. He couldn't breathe. Struggling for any air, he was fading into the mist even as he fought to remain.

Gasping, he sat up in bed. His hair was damp, though with sweat and not saltwater. It was still pitch black outside. Warm, as always in French Polynesia. Digging out of the twisted sheets, he shuffled over to the sink and poured a glass of water. He'd not had such a bad nightmare in over a year. He'd hoped they were finally fading away.

Guilt is a heavy burden to carry, and he was certainly the only one of the three survivors who carried it. Sighing, he rinsed out the glass and shuffled back to bed. This time, thankfully, the nightmare stayed away.

* * *

The next morning he woke exhausted. Tortured sleep is not restful, but he viewed it as his penance. Further punishment was born out when he opened his pantry to fix breakfast. It was empty, a metaphor for his life.

He tried to count back the days since his last trip to the store, and gave up after he passed ten. He avoided human contact on principle. But he couldn't survive on dirt and rock, so a trip to town would have to be braved.

Looking back later, he would marvel that such a simple need put him on course to affect an entire nation. To save the lives of the innocent. To find salvation after his self-inflicted sentence.

Heaving a sigh, he grabbed his bag and set out from the isolated hut on the long trek to the store. His days were spent in mindless tasks; little would be interrupted by a few hours to get provisions.

He currently resided up a steep mountainside on Huahine Iti. One of the Society Islands of French Polynesia, Huahine was not his home island. However, he had no intention of returning to his family. He'd been lost to them long ago. Ten years, if one needed a number.

Like many of the islands, Huahine offered plenty of coastlines for its inhabitants to choose from for their homes. He preferred the isolation of the interior, a place few lived in.

Isolation. Peace. Insulation from noisy, nosy humans. The only drawback to his remote abode was the long journey required to get supplies. A very small cost, in his mind.

He'd tried drinking and drugs while living on Tahiti, just after their rescue a decade ago. It had worked to numb the pain and erase the memories, but the oblivion was always temporary.

He'd lived in fear, during those years, that an insatiable reporter would stumble upon him and start asking the same questions they always asked. Dredge up the damn story again, and he'd be right back at the start. His carefully constructed sea walls, which protected him from his own guilt, would be reduced to rubble once more.

Eventually, he'd fled to Huahine Iti. He wasn't ashamed to admit it; he knew he was running. If he never had to remember the whole thing again, he'd die a less unhappy man. A name change went a long way to help hide him. He was known as Areiti here: 'Little wave.' No one knew him; he was a nobody. Just as he'd planned.

He kept to himself, and the locals had long ago learned to leave him alone. He was considered eccentric, probably a little touched in the head. He was still young, just into his early thirties, but he looked like he was two decades older.

The weight of guilt is a hard burden to carry. He alone carried it. Even though several others had far more blood on their hands than he. _They_ lived their life as if the wreck hadn't been a complete catastrophe. Probably because it had been the answer to their prayers.

Given how their lives had turned on a path so successful—and drastically different from his—he supposed they never thought back to what they could have done differently. What they _should_ have done differently. He was the one who couldn't forget. Or forgive.

After a long, sweaty march he reached Parea, the nearest town to his hut. He had plenty of money to buy a substantial lunch if he wanted, from the pension the government provided him. Blood money in his opinion. He hated it. He hated himself even more for accepting it.

Holding a job was impossible. He was too broken, too shattered to even attempt work. Not to mention he'd have to be around other people—an idea he found insupportable.

So, he only used the money if he _had_ to. Each time he did, it thrust the sword of guilt deeper in his gut. His stomach clenched every time he thought about _why_ they paid him. Accepting it put him deeper into their grip. But without it, he'd be forced to pretend he wasn't the ghost of a man.

Years later he would joke that on this day of all days the bloody phantasm that for so long had haunted him finally decided to help instead of torment. Perhaps it just happened through sheer dumb luck.

Either way, as he approached Parea around eleven am, he'd decided to grab something to eat at a small diner. It was at the time of day when he knew it would be fairly empty—safe enough for a hermit like him.

And with this one decision, an entire country's fate would veer from quiet backwater to worldwide sensation.

* * *

He asked for a booth away from the small scattering of other customers. He ordered, without even looking at the menu or the young waitress, and then found himself watching a family across the room. Wishing he was whole enough to have what they had.

A pulling sensation in his gut overwhelmed him. He wanted to touch, be touched. To hold, be held. To love, be loved. No one would have him—not if they knew what he'd done. He didn't deserve such connections. Not after he'd abandoned Rick and Kate to the depths.

Sweaty palms and wringing hands soon replaced his fleeting jealousy. He'd need to distract his brain if he wanted to avoid a meltdown. Crying in public by a grown man was seen as strange. If they only knew why he was crying—maybe they'd join him.

A stack of papers on an empty table attracted his attention. He grabbed them, just as his food arrived. He ate while browsing the news he'd been purposefully ignorant of for so long. Careful to avoid the political section, he started with sports. It was on top, so it was an easy decision.

His appetite for soccer and handball were soon exceeded, so he proceeded through the other sections. Sans the portion containing news politique, of course. That would be too much to deal with. Tears might be the least of his problems if he was to read of _their_ latest exploits, and the praises lauded on them.

* * *

Monique would never forget the sound of the dishes as they shattered on the hard floor, or the mess they made. She'd been required to do a prolonged cleaning effort afterwards, mandated by her manager.

But the true spectacle was the odd, old man in the booth as the crash of ceramic echoed through the diner, calling everyone's attention to her curious customer. He was half standing, clothes sullied with the soup and sandwich he'd ordered, as he held the three day old paper in shaking hands.

"Is this real? This is not a joke?"

It was all she could make out from her spot behind the counter, though he continued to mutter to himself for another few minutes until sinking back into the booth and ignoring the soup seeping into his clothes.

The whole diner was staring silently at him, but he was oblivious to their concern. After he'd finished reading the offending section he looked up, eyes wild. Monique took a half step back, hoping he wouldn't remember who she was.

A hope that was dashed when he spied her and gave a sloppy gesture indicating he wanted her to attend him. Legs glued to the floor, she was frozen to her spot. Or at least she was until a shove from her manager gave her stiff legs momentum towards the table. No one in the diner wanted to deal with the man, but he was her table so she was volunteered. A sacrifice, for the safety of the others.

Lips pursed, she took small, slow steps until only a gap of five feet remained between them.

Close enough.

Taking a deep breath, she remained stiff—ready to jump away at any sign of violence. "Oui, monsieur. How may I be of help? Do you want another plate or bowl of soup?"

He looked first at the newspaper then at her, eyes swinging back and forth in some demented tennis match that only he could follow.

"What? No, NO. No soup, merci. Tell me, do you keep up with the news?"

It was such an odd question, incongruous with the image of him seated in the midst of a total mess, that she relaxed a tiny bit. Neither she nor her friends paid much attention to the news unless it involved the latest celebrity gossip.

Afraid to upset him further, she decided to answer in the affirmative. Hopefully he wouldn't ask her something obscure.

"Yes, assurément. Is there a problem?" She thought there was definitely a problem: he was in the diner, at her table. She just wanted him gone and her shift over.

"This article, the date says it was three days ago. Do you know anything about this matter?"

She couldn't see what he was pointing to from the safe distance where she stood. He was still seated and as old as he looked, she was confident she could outrun him if needed. Curious to see what had led to such derangement, she shuffled forward.

This close to him, she could now see how red his face looked, under its brown pigment, and the sheen of sweat that glistened under the afternoon light. Glancing back at the rest of the diner, she saw many of the patrons were no longer watching, disappointed no further eruptions were imminent. Her manager was still watching closely, however, so she clenched her jaw and turned back to the old man.

When she held her hand out for the offending paper, he placed it in her hands as if it were the crown jewels of some lost kingdom. Skimming it, she saw no immediate cause for his outburst and shook her head slightly. He frowned, then pointed to a small article and accompanying picture.

"Oh, yes, monsieur. This has been quite a famous case here in French Polynesia. It is known to almost everyone," she explained. She let out a large breath and slumped her shoulders. This news was indeed very familiar to her.

The article in question discussed the sentencing of a man and his subsequent imprisonment in Nuutania prison. The picture accompanying the article was a close up. He had unkempt dark hair and a wild looking beard.

She shivered as he glared out of the newspaper. He looked menacing, according to her friends. However, she'd never agreed with them. To her, it was grief, not a threat, that emanated from his eyes. He looked like a man who'd lost everything that had ever mattered to him.

"I've been…out of touch for some time. Can you tell me a bit about it?"

She frowned, wanting nothing more than to return to her regular duties, and he spoke quickly in a pleading tone that touched her heart.

"Just the basics, mademoiselle. You don't need to go into details. Please, sit." He gestured at the seat opposite him. Glancing at the booth, she noticed it appeared dry. Still, she ought to get back to work.

"Please," he begged. "It is very important. Perhaps a matter of life and death."

His eyes were sincere, with no trace of madness. The romantic in her was piqued. How could a scruffy vagrant, as he appeared to be, have anything to do with one of French Polynesia's most notorious cases? She sat, smoothing her pants as she thought about where to begin.

"Do you know any of the story?"

"No. Nothing. Start at the beginning, please."

She frowned. This man really must be out of touch if he knew nothing. "The beginning. Yes, well, the trial of Jean Dupont—. "

"Jean Dupont?"

"His name." The man stared at her, apparently not comprehending. "The criminal, his name is Jean Dupont."

"Are you sure?" His tone was sharp, and she pursed her lips. She hadn't even made it through the first sentence and he was questioning her version.

"Yes, I'm sure. See? It's here in the article as well."

He looked, brow furrowed. "I didn't read it. I just saw the picture and the headline. Jean Dupont? That is…a curious name."

She smiled at him, feeling a bit more charitable as he confessed he'd not read anything. "Well, as you know, Jean Dupont is a generic name. This man turned up claiming amnesia, so Jean Dupont was assigned to him. Anyway, as I was saying, the trial started back about two months ago."

"Wait, wait, please," he interrupted again. "This man—this Jean Dupont—was tried and sentenced in just two months' time?"

Monique took a deep breath. This was turning out to be much more trying than she'd imagined. Still, there was something in the man's tone that made her want to help him. "Oui. Yes. It was a very rapid trial, but he did not fight the charges and the evidence showed he was clearly guilty."

"I've never heard of such a thing," he mused to himself.

"It's true, good sir. Everyone thought it was fast, but the government wanted it moved forward due to the scandal. Once Dupont realized he was fighting a tsunami of bad press, he just gave up. He was found guilty, and as you can see has been sentenced to many more years than he'll be alive. It's essentially a death sentence, given that he'll be in Nuutania." She shuddered, thinking about the notorious prison. It was widely known to be one of the worst places in all of France's justice system.

"You said there was a scandal? What did this man do?"

"It's not what he did, more what he said. Or who he said he was."

The confused look showed that he still had no idea what she was talking about, so she launched into the bigger story.

"About five months ago, he was found drifting on a ramshackle bamboo raft between the Australs and the Societies by a Chinese ship headed to Papeete for copra. They had altered their original course due to some weather and a bad engine. Luckily, they had an alert crewman at the helm that day; he saw the boat and managed to avoid running over it. When they came about, they saw there was a man in it, though he was not in good shape. They sent a small party over and rescued him. He was near death from starvation and dehydration."

"He was alone? No one else was on the raft?" He stared intently at her, as if she were withholding part of the story. She stared back, wondering at his odd questions.

"Do you know this man, this Jean Dupont?"

He startled, eyes darting wildly all around the diner before settling back on her.

"No. No, I don't know him. He just…he looks like someone I _used_ to know. The picture caught my eye."

"You had a very…strong…reaction to the story," she remarked, trying to encourage him to talk.

"It was a shock to see this picture. And to read that this man was in Nuutania, with such a sentence. He looks a lot like my old friend." He peered at her for a moment, then frowned and waved at the dripping table. "I'm sorry for the mess I've made here."

Monique twisted her lips, but his earnestness chased away her annoyance. "I can see how it would be upsetting if you thought your friend was in jail. I'm glad it was just a mistake."

The man looked down, but not before she saw a look of pain in his eyes. "Now, let's see. I was telling you of his rescue by the Chinese crew, no?"

He gave a brief nod, almost shy now. "Yes. You said he was alone. No one with him on the boat…not even a woman?"

His tone made it a question, and her breath hitched as she was struck by the thought that perhaps he knew more than he was telling her. "No, he was alone. No woman."

She paused, watching him carefully. He whispered in a voice so soft she knew he'd not meant for her to hear, "It's been so long. Maybe they were separated. Or it was always just him, alone for all these years."

It made no sense to her. Dupont had never claimed to be with anyone else. Even in his wildest declarations, he'd always said he was alone.

"And then?" the man asked, breaking her from her reverie.

"The Chinese crew had a medic. They were able to rehydrate him. He had blood on the back of his head, and a bump; they thought he'd had a head injury. They could tell he wasn't Polynesian, though his skin was deeply tanned by the sun. However, since they found him in Polynesia, they brought him to Papeete where he was placed in the hospital, still unconscious."

"No identification on him? Where did he come from?"

"No one knows. He had no ID at all. He was in hospital for several days before he awoke. Naturally, it was a sensation at the time. Even in the South Pacific, we do not frequently find starving sailors drifting past in need of rescue."

The man smiled at her, and his transformation from an older man, stooped from a heavy burden, to one much younger was nothing short of astonishing. She gaped at him, until he prompted her for the rest of the story.

"So, um, initially he had complete amnesia. He couldn't say who he was or what he had been doing. The head injury and the dehydration, said his doctors. About a week after his rescue, he was visited by a local reporter. They intended to publish his picture in the paper, let him tell them any details of his life he knew and see if anyone recognized him."

The man grinned at her as he listened. "That seems like a good place to start if you need to find out the identity of someone who can't remember anything."

Monique nodded and then hesitated for a minute. She was about to unveil the cause of the scandal and hoped it wouldn't upset him again.

"Yes. Except the man now said he _had_ remembered his name. He told it to the reporter, who faithfully copied it down and published it. All hell broke loose."

"What? Why? What in the world would cause such a reaction?"

She had his rapt attention, and a thrill thundered through her blood as she watched him, waiting breathlessly for what she was about to reveal.

"He claimed to be a dead man. And not just any dead man, a famous dead man."

"Who?" he moaned, rocking slowly back and forth in his seat as his eyes closed. Only to snap back open in horror as she gave him the answer.

"He said his name was Richard Rodgers."

* * *

**Welcome to all new readers! This is an A/U story—one that explores how Rick and Kate **_**might**_** have met, and how their lives play out under very different circumstances from canon. **

**Let me first reassure you that this is a Caskett love story. Chapters 1-12 are ultimately the setup for the entire fic. If you don't find this tale compelling enough to continue by the end of 12, then you won't like the rest. Which is fine. A story this A/U is not for everyone.**

**This is my homage to the incredible characters that AWM et al. have gifted us. I have no connection with the show; all Castle characters are their property. All original characters in this fic are my creation.**

**Twitter: drdit92**

**Tumblr: drdit92**

**There are many pics and maps posted on Tumblr if you're interested.**


	2. Chapter 2: A Dungeon of Deceit

**This chapter is dedicated to EES. A friend without a fanfic account, she was the one who introduced this Serenity/Firefly fan to Castle to begin with. She's read the whole story and has let me bounce ideas for the story arc off her. She keeps demanding updates, forcing me to write more than I might otherwise. She's a great friend and an even better person.**

* * *

**March 2010**

They were following him. Tamahere had noticed them almost the second he'd arrived in Papeete, the Tahitian capital. They must have thought he was a complete wastrel who wouldn't notice the obvious tail or they just didn't care that he knew they were trailing him. Either way it complicated things.

He'd come to Papeete for the library. Huahine didn't offer much in the way of books or archives. So, he'd checked into a cheap _pension_ and proceeded to plan his next move.

One advantage of disappearing from society for many years meant no one, including _them_, knew what he was capable of now. He'd play the drunkard. If they thought he remained a raging alcoholic then some of his actions would be dismissed. He'd been soused and stoned when they'd last seen him, ten years ago, so it was unlikely to raise their eyebrows now.

Though anxious to move forward, he'd been careful. They'd stopped keeping as close an eye on him after a few days spent stumbling to liquor stores from his rented room.

He'd then added in staggered meanderings past the library for a few days until he'd finally started shuffling inside. Pretending to fall asleep in a comfy chair lulled his keepers into complacency. The library staff had left him alone and, after nearly two weeks, so had his tail. Apparently watching a lush snore hadn't been high on their list of priorities.

Freed from the watchers, he dove into the events as covered by the press on the story of the man with no name. It was ironic that in reality he had many names: Richard Rodgers was his legal, and birth name. Richard Castle his nom de plume. And his Polynesian name, Hopo, given to him by their beloved captain, Anapa.

He read every account of Hopo's rescue that he could, then went back on microfiche to the time ten years ago when Hopo had been declared dead: lost at sea. Of course Tamahere had lived through it at the time, but he'd spent the following ten years trying to forget it all.

He longed to go back in time; to find and shake the stupid boy he'd been. Shake him free of the idiocy that had allowed him to sink to such deep depths of despair. After his rescue, the guilt of abandoning the Hopo and Kate behind had threatened his sanity. Leaving, without knowing for sure. That doubt had clawed and burrowed into the dark recesses of his soul, so he buried himself away on Huahine. He'd let them down, that was clear. Hopo was alive; God only knew what he'd gone through.

Given the immediate attention he'd garnered on his arrival to Tahiti, he knew a direct approach would be disastrous: death likely for both him and for Hopo. Deep seated insecurities had been stirred up by the discovery of the emaciated man in the dilapidated boat.

If the public had believed that the _real _Richard Rodgers had been found in a boat ten years after everyone declared him dead—well, there would've been an outcry. Demands for a truth that no one wanted to hear. A public relations nightmare. Definitely the end of _their_ careers; perhaps even a criminal trial. Now that he, Tamahere, had resurfaced as well? He was sure _their_ hackles were raised high. He couldn't afford for them to figure out what he was up to.

Leaving Papeete after reading all that was available was the best course of action, though he wished he could have sent a message through to Hopo somehow. Letting him know there was still a person alive who believed him, a person who wanted to do the right thing after a string of wrong decisions. Yet it was impossible; it almost certainly would have been intercepted and led to a quick death for both of them.

Both he and Hopo were expendable, especially as no one else knew the true story. He was sure they planned to kill Hopo as soon as all the publicity of the trial disappeared. Tamahere had to leave Papeete; get off their radar. After a long night of agonizing over his next step he purchased a ferry ticket to Mo'orea the next day.

No one appeared to follow him. He was confident his tail had been called off after his library act, but to make sure he waited three long, empty days on Mo'orea to be certain. After nothing untoward, he made his move.

The law office was unassuming and informal, as befit an establishment off the main island. The secretary in the front room took his name; he gave his assumed name, Areiti, feeling safer in the anonymity. Told it would be a short wait, he was pleased when no more than five minutes passed before Afaitu Tutomo came and escorted him personally into his office.

Afaitu was taller than he, with an erect posture and an open manner that invited trust. He was still young, in his late twenties to early thirties. In reality Tamahere's own age, though Afaitu looked the part whereas he, well, he didn't look good. Afaitu had never carried the burden of guilt that had nearly crushed Tamahere into the ground.

"How may I help you, Monsieur Areiti?"

Tamahere…Areiti….started babbling about a far-fetched story involving two neighbors, pigs and a long simmering feud, trying to read the body language of the other man. He needed help; he could accomplish nothing on his own. But confiding in the wrong person would be catastrophic. He'd picked Afaitu for a reason, but he was terrified that if he blurted out his true reason for being here that the other man would refuse to help. Or turn him in. Purposeful misdirection had seemed the best option: get to know the man a bit before springing his soul-wrenching, anal-clenching story on him.

Afaitu quickly lost interest in the jumbled tale that was long on blame, but short on a rapid solution. Tamahere had chosen it carefully, watching to see if the man across from him would simply dismiss him, or if he'd pay attention despite his lack of interest. When Tamahere was assured of the latter, he gave an internal smile and relaxed a bit. Afaitu would do nicely.

Once his story ran out of steam, Afaitu made some noises about trying his best to help him. Their time was running short; Tamahere had to make a stab and hope he hit his mark, and not himself. Metaphorical blood would be shed, one way or the other.

He waited for the lawyer to shift, act as though he were about to escort him out of the office, before he dropped his mask of affronted neighbor and donned his usual face: serious, introspective. Not a man easily dismissed, especially if one looked into the depths of his eyes and saw the pain he carried.

"You are the great nephew of a man I held in great reverence for all my life," he declared, voice low and sonorous. Tamahere could do gravitas when he needed it.

Afaitu was silenced. He stared at him, not sure how to respond to the change in subject. The change _in_ his subject. Obviously, this was more than just a stupid neighborhood dispute.

"Your great uncle, Anapa, was also my great uncle by marriage. He and Hina took me under their wing, taught me what they knew, and gave me a place when I had nothing. They made a man of me. To my eternal shame, I repaid them by accepting a great lie and perpetrating an immense injustice against two innocent people."

Afaitu maintained his silent stare. His face was unreadable, though Tamahere supposed that was a common lawyer trait. Taking a deep breath, he gave a silent prayer before launching into the heart of the matter.

"I am Tamahere, and I have a great favor to ask of you. Together, we will reveal this injustice to the world. And in the process, bring at least one person back from the dead."

* * *

Three weeks had passed. Three weeks in this hellhole. A drop in the bucket compared to his sentence, though being given a life term does not guarantee that said prisoner will live a long life. There were several powerful people hoping for the exact opposite in his case.

Nothing overt had occurred so far, though he didn't know how long this bizarre détente would hold. Since he'd stopped claiming his own name the direct threats had ceased. He was sure, once the publicity died away, that his life expectancy would be measured in weeks, not the years of the sentence they had handed down to him.

He was a desperate man, looking for any friend. He had to have _someone_ believe him, else all would be lost. Yet he was surrounded by men who couldn't be trusted. Guards and prisoners alike. Nuutania prison was built for some 61 prisoners. It currently held over 250. It was widely believed to be the most decrepit and overcrowded prison in all of France, which of course included French Polynesia. Nothing he had seen so far had changed his mind.

His musings were cut short by one of the guards speaking rapid French. He'd learned a lot more of the language since his incarceration. "Dupont, your lawyer is here. Get moving."

His lawyer? What a joke that was. His lawyer was employed by the government. And the government had wanted him put away. Forever. He'd never had a chance at the farce they'd labeled a trial.

He thought about ignoring the order, but a possible beating—and the attention it called to him—weren't worth the effort.

He went. It turned out to be the best decision he'd made in months.

He didn't recognize the young man waiting for him. However, he had the sense to keep his mouth shut. The only meetings that were truly private in this hell on earth were meetings with your lawyer. Thinking this might be an opportunity, he held his tongue until the guard left.

The young man pretending to be his lawyer was a Polynesian. He wore a light khaki suit, common here in the tropics for professional wear. Seated at the lone table, there was a secure looking briefcase at his side. His eyes were curious, assessing him. But there was no inherent judgment. Interesting.

"Mr. Rodgers?"

That gave him a start. Not a single person had called him that since they had officially decreed he could not be who he actually was. Rick meandered to the opposite chair, not sure if this was a new opportunity or the beginning of another catastrophe. Either seemed equally likely.

"You have the advantage. I don't know who you are."

"My name is Afaitu Tutomo. I was hired to be your lawyer by someone who knows your true identity and wants more than anything to help you. Before we go further, I need you to sign these papers accepting me as your representative," he said, sliding the papers out of the briefcase and onto the table between them. He took a ballpoint pen out of his jacket and extended it in his hand expectantly.

Rick let him hold his arm out for a few seconds, deliberately crossing him arms across his chest in defiance of the other man's outstretched limb. "Why should I sign these? I don't even know who it is that hired you."

Afaitu let his arm drop, placing the pen precisely halfway between them. It rested in no man's land, waiting for the sword to fall to one side or the other.

"This is true. However, he told me to give you a message. I have memorized it, as you understand I do not know to what he refers. His message was, 'We stacked some forty goddam chicken cages together, Hopo. Now sign the damn papers.'"

Rick slammed his eyes closed as he listened; a lump grew in his throat and his chest was so tight he struggled to breathe. These weren't just words; they were a lifeline being thrown to him. The answer to his prayers. A few tears slipped down his cheeks; neither man mentioned them.

"Tamahere?" Rick croaked, though he was the only man it could possibly be.

Afaitu nodded.

"Where has he been? Why didn't he show up earlier, during the trial? No one came helped me, and he chooses now to reappear? Now when it's too late?" clenching the table, his knuckles turned white. So much time wasted. And every day that had passed might have already spelled then end. There was no way to know what had happened after he'd been gone so long.

"He did not know about your rescue, your trial, or your conviction until just over a week ago."

"Didn't know? It was all over the papers."

"It was, but he's lived apart from society for many years."

"Lived apart…?" Rick started laughing, almost hysterical. "Lived apart? Neither you nor he has any idea what 'living apart' from society really entails. Lived. Apart. My God, that's a good one."

"Mr. Rodgers, I'm afraid I'm quite lost. I know very little of your relationship with Tamahere, or the circumstances that led him to my door. He told me what he wished, of course. That included what he has been doing, in general, since his own rescue."

"And just what would that be?" Rick grunted, lips twisted. How could he trust Tamahere now when they'd been left to rot for ten years without help from any quarter?

"He changed his name and moved to Huahine Iti not long after the rescue. He couldn't live with the guilt of having abandoned you, especially with the way they were received upon their rescue. He's been essentially a hermit, unthought of for many years. As I mentioned, he only recently learned of your rescue and subsequent trial, and has been trying to think of a way to help you. He decided to contact me, knowing direct correspondence would mean a swift death for both of you."

Rick sighed. The man who deserved his anger was not Tamahere. And it appeared that the man he'd once been proud to call a friend was actually trying to help him. "He was right to be careful. I don't expect to be allowed to serve out my sentence."

"Then, Mr. Rodgers, we must be quick and smart. The only papers that can be brought in and out of this prison unseen by authorities are those of your lawyer. I will serve as the go between for you both."

Afaitu regarded the other man carefully, as Rodgers sat considering his words. He was tall; thin, but quite muscular. Bearded, though it was now neatly trimmed compared to the wild bush that pictures had captured when he'd first been rescued. Several jagged scars were visible on his left arm where the shirt sleeves failed to cover the large biceps. He was no longer emaciated, but there was very little trace of fat on his rope-like muscles. He was an imposing physical presence, but it was the eyes that revealed the man behind the stony mask he'd schooled over his face. His eyes were wary, though hyper-intelligent. One could see grief intermixed with desperation. Afaitu knew he was being measured by this man, assessed for his worthiness.

When Tamahere had told him of the story from ten years ago, Afaitu had found it to be simply incredible; it was difficult for him to accept it as the truth. He'd been curious to know more, and Tamahere was very convincing. Afaitu had looked forward to this meeting, knowing he was to tell a man who'd been convicted of lying that there were people who knew the truth, people who wanted to help him.

However, the man in front of him looked to carry a burden far greater than what Afaitu had been told so far. He'd expected excitement, perhaps joy at being believed. He'd seen nothing of that. No, he'd only found despondency in place of the expected jubilation. A hint of grief in the place of joy. Something else was at play: a mystery that would have to be solved, with haste, if Tamahere were correct about the motivations behind this entire sordid affair.

"Pardon the curiosity, but what am I to you?" Rick's arms were still crossed.

Afaitu gave him a piercing glance.

"You are right to be suspicious, Mr. Rodgers. You've had little reason to believe in our system of justice so far. But, as you trusted my great uncle with your life, you can trust me as well. Anapa's wisdom extended from his crew that he took under his wing as well as to his family, especially a young, arrogant boy who thought that becoming a lawyer would allow him to right all the wrongs of society."

"You're Anapa's great nephew?"

"Yes, to my great honor, I am. And while I was much younger when all these events took place, I know how my uncle would want me to act. I strive to live up to his example on a daily basis."

Rick was silent for a minute; he'd revered Anapa. He would've done anything for the man, and finding a relative of his was almost as good as the man himself. Suddenly the tense Afaitu had used when talking about Anapa registered with him. "You said you act how he would want you to act? Is he….?"

"Dead? To my eternal sorrow, yes."

Rick hung his head. He'd been counting all this time on being able to put Anapa's incredible knowledge to work for him. No one knew the waters of French Polynesia like the old man. It was a blow to his hopes and plans, carefully crafted in the long, bleak nights of his incarceration. But it explained why no one had found them. He'd long wondered what, or who, had kept Anapa from tracking them down.

"When?" he managed, still reeling from the news.

"Not long after you'd been declared lost at sea. There were complications, and he was far from Papeete. Hina died within a few months of his passing. I believe she could not face living without him. She died of a broken heart."

Rick nodded, eyes becoming hard. He'd overcome so much, this would simply be one more obstacle in a long line of them. The news of Anapa's death would complicate his plans, but even more to the point was just how Anapa had died. In Rick's view, this was nothing short of murder. How many more crimes could he lay at their feet? It was time for them to start paying the price of their crimes. For Anapa, certainly, but most of all for her.

He snapped, "Do you have any idea what this means? You sit so calmly, you must not know."

Afaitu, to his credit, remained calm even as Rick raged.

"Mr. Rodgers, I'm a lawyer. I must maintain an air of tranquility in the face of calamity. I've grieved the loss of Anapa for these ten years. For me, time has softened the sharp edges, but I understand it's all fresh to you. We were reassured it was an accident; isn't this true?"

"Not to me. Manslaughter, at the least."

"That is a very serious allegation. You know who you would accuse of this crime?"

"I am very well acquainted, yes. The same people who've put me here."

"Well, while I'd like nothing more than to seek justice for Anapa if what you say is true, we must first concentrate on getting you out of jail. My uncle would counsel caution in the face of a storm, no?"

Rick nodded, then relaxed, fully convinced. Somehow the old man's hand still played a part in his life. It was incredible. He offered Anapa's spirit a quick word of thanks, then leaned forward and signed the papers placing him in the hands of this young lawyer.

"So, Mr. Rodgers, I must confess to being confused. Why did you change your plea to guilty? I was a teenager when you disappeared, but I remember well how the news covered your death. There was worldwide attention; the bestselling author who'd died in the remote Pacific. Surely you could've proven who you were and avoided jail altogether."

"Please, call me Rick," he grinned, though the rictus was more disturbing than reassuring. "I'd give anything to be out of this place, for reasons that are more important than my own life. You're aware of the other passengers that were on that ship?"

"Of course. Their rescue made them famous. That fame translated directly into the positions they have achieved today. Well, for all but Tamahere of course."

"Then you know how powerful they are. And how dangerous it would be to be recognized as the living, breathing, very much alive best-selling author Richard Castle. Or Richard Rodgers, since I went by my real name while I lived here in French Polynesia those years ago."

"Why the difference?"

"My pen name is Richard Edgar Castle. I never had it legally changed, though I thought about it. When I came to French Polynesia in late 1998, I was looking for anonymity. No one knew who Richard Rodgers was, so I escaped without too much attention."

"Rodgers is a common name, unlike Castle?"

"Yes. Anapa and Hina knew who I really was, but no one else."

"I see," Afaitu mused. "I was confused, as the world knew you as Rick Castle. But here in the South Pacific the papers referred to you as Rodgers."

"It wasn't a deep secret, but I was fleeing, in part, my notoriety in the English speaking world. Using my real name helped hide me from that life."

"And now you've reappeared from the dead. Your sudden existence, after all these years lost at sea, must have caused a great deal of anxiety."

"You've no idea. I was threatened after the article ran. They acted quickly, told me in no uncertain terms that I could not be who I claimed. That if I persisted in insisting I was Richard Rodgers the consequences would be swift—and permanent."

"Yes, I can appreciate that your true identity would cause them embarrassment. But to subject yourself to jail? Surely there was another way."

Rick's gaze was razor sharp, pinning the young lawyer as one pins a dead insect to a board. Clearly there was more; Afaitu hoped the man would trust him to tell him everything. He couldn't help the man if he didn't trust him.

His decision made, Rodgers spoke. "There's more at stake than just my life."

Afaitu watched as Rick closed his eyes and clenched his fists, in danger of losing control of the stony mask that hid his underlying turmoil. When several quiet minutes had passed without any further explanation, Afaitu pressed.

"You know, there are ways to explain your existence that they wouldn't find threatening. I don't know the truth of what happened that day; you're maybe the only one who does. However, I can think of several scenarios that would allow the real Richard Rodgers to have a celebrated return. They might even view your existence as a positive. It would certainly bring great attention to Tahiti once again, which would only serve to help them."

Rodgers opened his eyes again, not bothering to hide his desolation or desperation.

"They might welcome me with open arms, given the right story. It's possible. But they aren't really afraid of me, per se, though their actions seem to argue against that. It's who else they left behind that they truly fear. They don't know if I'm a threat and their safest course was to stick me in a hole where no one would ever hear my story. But I know everything. They should fear me. More importantly, they definitely should fear her. They're terrified that she might still be alive. I doubt they've slept well any night since my discovery."

Afaitu leaned forward, threatening his balance. Perched on the edge of his chair, he focused on the man in front of him. Tamahere hadn't known how involved this had all been, though he had hinted there might be more when he'd told Afaitu the story.

The noisy din of the prison faded into the background. Only the harsh breathing of Rodgers was audible to his ears, as the other man continued to struggle to maintain his composure. Afaitu would later marvel at the faith imparted to him; that he was the first to hear the story. In the moment though, all he wanted was to hear the answer to a simple question. A question whose answer would irrevocably change his life.

"Who should they fear?"

Rodgers closed his eyes again and Afaitu feared he'd lost him. The other man visibly swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing. Before Afaitu found the courage to ask his question again, Rodgers opened his eyes and fixed his steely gaze back onto the lawyer.

"Katherine Houghton Beckett."

* * *

Pictures of Nuutania are on my Tumblr.


	3. Chapter 3: The Story Begins

**This chapter is dedicated to lousiemcdoogle. She's also read all the chapters I've pre-written and offered her invaluable comments and corrections to help me present the best story possible. As a resident of Oceania, she has great insight and interest in the setting I've chosen. Thank you for your excitement over this story and for loving it so much!**

* * *

**March 2010**

Katherine Houghton Beckett.

Referred to as Kate Beckett in the newspaper articles.

Afaitu recognized her name but knew little of her beyond the basic facts. She'd been on the doomed ship—one of two passengers when the boat sank. The passenger who'd not survived. Anything more about her had been completely overshadowed by the heroic tale of the rescued men and the grief over the death of a famous author.

"Kate Beckett? She is alive as well?"

Rodgers gave a sharp nod. "Yes. We were left behind. I was knocked unconscious when we wrecked, so I can't speak directly to what happened. I only know what _really_ happened—why they abandoned us to die—thanks to Kate. She knows exactly how it all went down. And _they_ know that, so she's a threat to them."

"Where is she?" Afaitu had heard all the accounts of Rodgers being found drifting alone. He'd been recovered by a Chinese crew with no motive to lie about whom, or how many, they'd rescued.

"Safe, I hope." Rodgers' voice cracked as his shoulders drooped. "She was fine the last time I saw her," he added, clenching his fist. "She was _fine_."

"How long ago was that?"

"About four months," Rick choked. A single tear tracked down his right cheek, unnoticed as he stared at the ground.

"You'd been with her all that time? The last ten years?" Afaitu asked in a gentle voice.

Rick gave a quick nod, afraid he'd start sobbing if he tried to speak.

"Where were you two?"

Silence was the only answer until the prisoner shifted in his chair and looked up at Afaitu, tears brimming in both eyes. "That—that's a story. A story for the ages. I've written it in my head so many times." He paused, lost in memories, before continuing. "We've talked about it so much; I could tell it to you from her standpoint alone if I had to."

"Well, Mr. Rodgers—Rick, if we're going to get you both out of this safely I need to know everything. And I have to be able to share it with others." He leaned down and reached in his briefcase, pulling out a laptop.

"What do you need?"

"You're an author. I want you to write your story. For me and for all that will need to see it."

"Is this safe?"

"As safe as we can be. No one in Nuutania is allowed to search the private briefcase of a lawyer, apart from an x-ray to ensure there's no weaponry inside. The drive in this laptop is encrypted and I've a secure safety deposit box that I'll use to store this flash drive. They'll not know the truth until we're ready to reveal it."

Rodgers frowned, fidgeting in his chair again. "I don't know what a flash thingy is, or an encrypted drive. In my day, laptops were much bigger and clunkier than this."

"I'm sure a lot has changed since you disappeared."

"More than I could've imagined. It feels like I was gone fifty years, not ten. It's a different world now. One I'd like to learn more about, someday. After she's safe. Finding her is my only focus right now. I'll do anything to help Kate, and if you say this is necessary then I'll do my best."

"Then I suggest you start typing."

* * *

**November 1999**

Rick woke early. He'd never been an early riser in his previous life, but now it was a necessity. Didn't mean that he liked it.

Screaming voices and the din of machinery were his incessant alarm while in port. And the smell, ye gods. Nothing like a busy shipping port with rotten fish, diesel, and sewage as its unavoidable perfume. He vastly preferred the open water.

Yet the port was where they restocked; gained valuable cargo. Passengers occasionally. Crew if they were lucky. They'd lost their last cook to a woman on Bora Bora, and they'd not found a replacement. So many were lured by the glamor of the tourist industry, and a job in a battered, rusty cargo ship plying the islands wasn't high on career lists.

"Hopo? You up?" Anapa's voice called from nearby, drowning out the screams of both sea birds and man alike.

Anapa always beat him up in the morning. He wondered if the old man ever slept.

"I'm up, I'm up." Rolling out of his bunk, he clambered into a t-shirt and jeans grabbed out of a drawer beneath the bed. The bunk was tiny; barely room for his six foot plus frame, but it had been home for months now. There were five total beds in the crew's quarters, all occupied when they were at sea. Sharing meant space was precious, and personal storage was paramount to prevent angry words over someone's mess.

He laughed now when he thought back on all the wasted space in his old apartment. Here, he was limited to just the basics. Of course, not needing seasonal clothing helped. Some shorts, t-shirts, and a pair of pants sufficed. He led a simple life now—a far cry from his existence in New York.

The sun was just peeking over the horizon when he got out on deck. His heart lurched at the beauty of the South Pacific. It was a privilege to live and work amongst these islands—emeralds scattered on the surface of the ocean. They'd been a much needed salve for his soul.

Anapa was standing near the gangway. Dressed up, for him, which meant he was wearing a t-shirt and pants instead of his usual bare chest and shorts that served when out in the open water.

"I'm meeting with a rep for the next run. You keep your eyes peeled for a new cook. I don't want to suffer through more of that inedible crap you call _ma'a_."

Rick nodded. He knew the drill. He'd been crewing with the old man for almost 10 months now. He was no cook, and Anapa was correct; the food he'd thrown together when he'd taken his turn in the galley had been horrible.

"Wouldn't say _aita_ to passengers, neither."

Rick nodded again. Saying no to a passenger wasn't the issue; finding one was. They both knew the likelihood of a paying passenger was slim to none. The _Iriata_ was a good ship, but she wasn't a sleek sailboat like many passengers wanted for their adventures in the South Pacific.

She was, first and foremost, a cargo ship. She handled very well, needing only a crew of four besides Anapa. Five if they found their cook. Light and nimble, but solid against the sea when the waves rose up and pounded against her. Like her captain, she was at her best out on the open water, but the years of making deliveries amongst the islands had taken their toll.

"We need more fuel too. Don't let them cheat you on the price," Anapa warned.

"I know, I know. That was like eight months ago. Am I ever going to live that down?"

Anapa chuckled and swiped at Rick's head affectionately. "_Aita_, Hopo, probably not. I'll be back; this next run sounds interesting. Oh, and Hina left almost an hour ago. She might need help when she comes back. _Nana_." Without further discussion his bandy legs carried him down the gangway onto the dock, where he rolled as much as walked his way to the mainland.

Rick watched him go, affection for the kind, old man shining from his eyes. He'd met Anapa and Hina shortly after arriving in Papeete. At loose ends, without any idea about what to do with himself after escaping the hell of New York. He hadn't wanted a job, but Anapa had seen that Rick lacked something meaningful in his life. He'd needed a guide: someone to help him grow into the man he could be. Anapa had taken on the challenge without batting an eye.

Down a crewman to a stomach illness that'd ended up being more serious than anyone had anticipated, Anapa had been wandering around one of the docks trying to find a replacement. He'd seen the young American hanging about and knew sooner or later someone would take advantage of him. He'd approached him, struck up a conversation, and quickly found he liked the earnest young man. He'd offered him a job on the spot.

Rick had declined initially; he'd come to the South Pacific looking to flesh out the details of a new character he wanted to base a whole series on. A man who could survive nearly anything: a cross between James Bond and MacGyver. He hadn't been looking to become a crewman on a cargo boat. Plus he didn't know much about boats—or the ocean—in general.

He'd hoped he'd figure out what was missing from his life on the other side of the world. Yet, two months after arriving he'd found little to write about, had no insight into why he was so unhappy in general, and had been on the verge of going home. His desire to write was non-existent. Progression on character research was at a standstill. _Nothing_ in his life was working the way it should.

Meeting the venerable Anapa intrigued him. Soon after saying no to the sailor he'd found himself reconsidering the job offer. When Anapa had asked him to just do a trial run—see how he liked it (or not)—he'd heard himself accepting the offer, much to his surprise. It'd turned out to be the most important decision in his life, until that point.

Once on board he'd met Hina, Anapa's wife and a native healer. She was nearly as old as her husband and travelled from island to island with him. It wasn't long before Rick had discovered just how valuable these new friends were. They were like living treasure troves. Between them, they knew everything about survival on remote islands: knowledge that had been handed down through their culture for generations. They'd became his teachers in the ways of the ocean, and in the ways of their people who lived with so very little—yet led a rich, happy life. It was a lesson plan that he never could've paid for with all his wealth; a lesson that would impact the trajectory of his life forever.

That first voyage had been a grand adventure, in his eyes, and he'd been eager to stay on as a crewman. He'd recognized how much Anapa and Hina could teach him. The old man had become a father figure to him, something he'd never had in his other life. He'd found a family, and a place to belong.

When Anapa had started calling him 'Hopo' Rick had swelled with pride; he'd earned a true Polynesian name with his hard work. That pride was diminished, a bit, a month later when he'd found out that Hopo meant 'great white albatross,' but by then he'd learned the nuances of Anapa's humor and recognized it was a term of affection between them. Plus, he had to admit he'd caused some problems for his employer in the beginning.

He hadn't had much of a grasp of the language, reo Tahiti, or French for that matter. Apparently just smiling and nodding when you didn't understand something was not the best strategy—either on land with unscrupulous vendors looking for an advantage, or on a boat with a crew that had no qualms about making the new guy uncomfortable. He'd ended up doing more than his fair share of the worst chores until he'd learned what they were saying.

The months he'd spent on the _Iriata_ since, sailing cargo to and fro and helping Hina provide traditional medical care and advice on the islands, had been some of the best days of his life. He'd learned so much at the feet of Anapa and Hina, as well as the rest of the crew who were also all native Polynesians. He'd become much fitter, with the pure physical labor of loading and unloading both cargo and Hina's supplies.

He'd learned simple things, like how to read the ocean and the clouds. And more complex things, like basic navigation. How to start a fire without a lighter. What plants were useful and which were dangerous. Which ones Hina valued for medicines. He'd attended island funerals and assisted with nearly a dozen births. Helped set bones and tended to those who were dying.

In short, he'd learned the things that he thought his new character would know. If he himself knew _how_ to do something it would be that much easier to write about it. But more importantly, he'd learned what it meant to be a man of honor and integrity. Anapa was revered throughout French Polynesia, and his example helped Rick mold himself into the man he'd always wanted to be but couldn't figure out how to achieve on his own. He'd discovered the missing piece of his life.

He was busy, but he also had time to write. If he wasn't on duty, he generally spent most of his time up on deck. There was a spot in the bow where he liked to sit and write. The other men spent their down time playing cards or sleeping, but Rick loved the feeling of the open air as the _Iriata_ raced across the sea. His new life was inspiring, and he'd found it quite easy to start in on his unique character. The adventures Rick found himself living were incorporated into fictional life. He had written most of a complete novel now.

The weather was, of course, wonderful; even in the "winter" he was tanned and buff. He was in the best shape of his life. Yes, there was no doubt in his mind that coming to the South Pacific had been the greatest decision he'd ever made. And one that had maybe even saved his life.

It was a busy, meaningful existence. He had purpose. It was the opposite of what he'd left behind. Here, he helped Hina care for people. In New York his only care was having a good time. Here, he had a family with Hina and Anapa and his crewmates. In New York, there was only his mother, and she was usually too busy with her own complicated life to pay much attention to him.

He'd been lonely for so long, and nothing had changed once he was a successful adult. He'd sworn off women in New York. He'd no desire to change his status now. Women were part of the reason he was hiding in the South Pacific to begin with. No, here he was happy for the time in his life.

* * *

Rick jumped off the ship about thirty minutes later. He was the last one off; the other crewman had left last night just after they'd docked. They were eager to visit family in the few days they would have in Papeete, whereas Rick had no one to visit. Thus, he stayed with the boat. He didn't mind.

They were berthed in the slip that Anapa normally chose; everyone around them knew the old man and respected him. They wouldn't let anyone mess with the boat while Rick was gone. Just to be sure, he gave a whistle he'd learned months earlier at Gaston, the captain of the boat next to theirs. Gaston nodded at him and Rick walked down the dock towards the fuel depot to buy their needed diesel.

"_Bonjour. Comment puis-je vous aider_?" The majority of the people on Papeete spoke French, a language Rick learning. He'd picked up a lot of Tahitian in his months living in French Polynesia, but his French was improving too.

"_J'ai besoin d'acheter du diesel pour le navire Iriata_." Brief negotiations got them the promise of a full tank by the end of the day.

Rick left the fuel depot and headed for the post office next. Papeete was considered their home port; Anapa and Hina both had their mail shipped here. They didn't own a house, choosing to stay on their boat, but they did maintain a mail box which any of the crew was authorized to open. Rick normally took mail duty when they were in Papeete, as he kept a box as well. He grabbed Anapa and Hina's assortment first; neither usually received much.

His own box was stuffed full. Letters from Black Pawn, Gina, and Paula he pitched, just glancing at them to make sure there was nothing important. They had most of the manuscript, he wasn't coming back to New York anytime soon, and he had tons of ideas for the next book. Nothing they said would change those facts.

That left a few letters from his mother. He hoped she'd given up begging for him to come home. She worried about him; she was his mother after all. His continued absence from the greater world had hurt her, as she couldn't understand his desire to remain so far away. Or why he was working on a cargo boat. However, she was on her second marriage and most of her attention was given to her husband. Rick's presence wouldn't alter that, so he chose to stay where he was happy.

He hated reminders of his life in New York: who he'd been, what he'd done. What had been done _to_ him. His previous life had been shallow: full of debauchery and people who only wanted something from him. The press had declared him an irreverent playboy and he'd done his best to live down to the reputation. He'd been a lost soul; desperately unhappy and completely clueless as to what his life was missing.

Women had been the worst part of it all. Sure, he'd been devastated by Kyra, and had spiraled into a party atmosphere to prove he didn't need her. But then, just as he'd become sober, he'd gotten involved with Meredith. That whole experience nearly killed him. Looking back now, he was grateful for all of it. After all, it was in fleeing his old life that he'd ended up where he was now. It was a journey of self-discovery that'd ended up saving him.

He'd embarked on this trip alone. Not certain where he was going, he'd told Black Pawn he needed to do extensive research for his new character, Derrick Storm. They'd not been thrilled, but once he'd finally started writing something they'd let up on their threats and collective gnashing of teeth.

As for the public, he'd simply disappeared. It didn't take long for his disappearance to grow stale, with new celebrity scandals pushing him out of the way. No one would lament the departure of Richard Castle, playboy extraordinaire.

"_Ia ora na_, Hopo. You're back in port! _E aha te huru_?" The now familiar Tahitian words startled him out of his reverie. A familiar voice saying hello to him and asking how he was doing.

He looked up to see Rahiti, one of Anapa's friends greeting him. He wasn't as old as Anapa and didn't spend as much time on the water, so he wasn't quite as wrinkled. Still, his hair was completely grey and, like many of the islanders' elderly, he was much shorter than Rick's six feet two.

"_Ia ora na_, Rahiti. _Maita'i_. Here just for a day or two. Anapa is negotiating for a run and Hina is off tending to someone," Rick returned the greeting and told Rahiti he was doing well.

"Where're you headed?"

"No idea. Anapa was somewhat mysterious this morning, though he said it'd be a good run."

"They say there's a cyclone brewing out in the south east. Below the Australs right now. Wouldn't want to run into that."

"I don't know. Sometimes I think he likes the challenge of bad weather. Or watching me puke my guts out over the side."

Rahiti gave a guttural laugh and slapped him on the back, hard. Wincing, Rick bid him _nana_, or farewell, after exchanging a few more pleasantries with the older man and headed into the market to pick up supplies and some of the herbs he knew Hina needed.

An hour later he was back on the docks, arms full. Gaston waved at him as he passed his boat, indicating nothing had happened while he was away. He climbed up the gangway with a practiced ease and slipped into the galley to stock the groceries. Hina had a small workshop on the deck above the crew's quarters. He put the herb packets on her counter; she'd square them away before they left.

Once all his tasks were done he retrieved his pen and notebook and went up to the top deck to do some writing before starting in on the never-ending chores. The breeze in the open was much pleasanter than the sweltering cabins.

Opening to a blank page, he smiled as he began to outline a new chapter. He liked writing longhand; it made him feel like an author from two centuries ago. Besides, seawater and sand were murder on electronics, so his laptop was in storage in Papeete. Gina had railed against the need to have his chapters typed up once they reached her, but there was no realistic way he could use a laptop in the open bow when they were at sea.

He'd been writing for about half an hour when he heard someone hailing the ship from the dock. A woman's voice, though not Hina, who did sometimes need help up and down the gangway. Eyebrows furled, he put down his notebook and made his way over to the bulwark nearest the dock to see who was shouting.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

The woman was turned away from him, looking intently at the other end of the ship. She had long, wavy brown hair worn down despite the heat, and legs that wouldn't quit. A pair of modest shorts and a t-shirt did nothing to hide her body, and he swallowed hard. He wondered for a brief second if she might be looking for a passage before squashing the idea before it took root. Lovely young women simply did not come to the _Iriata_ for passage.

"Can I help you?" His voice was tinged with amusement as she continued to hallo at the top of her lungs.

She turned towards the sound of his voice and his breath suddenly rushed out of his chest as if he'd been sucker punched. She was drop dead gorgeous, even from his distant vantage point. Her mouth was moving, but he couldn't hear anything but the swishing of blood through his ears. His heart pounded, wanting out of his chest, and his mouth was as dry as the Sahara. He suddenly hoped she _had_ wandered by the boat by accident. He didn't think he'd make it being near her for very long.

* * *

**Pictures of the cargo ships used as inspiration for the **_**Iriata**_** are on my tumblr, as well as maps of French Polynesia.**


	4. Chapter 4: Kate's Journey

**This chapter is dedicated to honeyandvodka. She was the very first person to read any of what became this story. She selflessly offered her advice and even designed some cover art for me. Although I ended up using my own creation, I was very excited by her work and kind words for my story. Thank you so much for being so patient with me! I appreciate all the discussion and thoughts on how to structure things.**

* * *

**November 1999**

She woke early. She'd always been an early riser, and halfway around the world her habits hadn't altered. What had changed was how much sleep she got: a year ago, studying in her dorm at Stanford, she'd thought five hours barely sufficient. The last ten months had made two to three hours normal. Nightmares tormented her every time she closed her eyes.

The first rays of the sun were just kissing the sky when she got up and looked out the window. For most of her life dawn had been a favorite time of day for her. It was so peaceful; full of promise for the oncoming day. Dawn in the South Pacific was spectacular, with pinks giving way to fiery reds before the sun made it over the horizon. But she hated dawns now. Had hated them ever since she'd discovered that all a new day promised was unquenched sorrow.

The darkness of night was all she craved now. Inky blackness filling the sky in the same way it'd invaded her soul. Yet, the sun insisted on rising anew each day, for some reason. Faced with another bright day to survive, she made a quick cup of coffee and then sat, trapped in the misery that had defined her life since that fateful day in January, ten months ago.

She'd foolishly imagined that escaping New York would free her of some of the invisible weights now tied so tightly to her heart. Life in New York had degenerated into a carnival of agony. Her mother dead: murdered in cold blood in a filthy alley. Her father was just as lost to her, after climbing into a never-ending bottle of alcohol, trying to drown the pain of living without his beloved wife.

Any way you looked at it, she'd been left an orphan. She'd tried and tried to bring her father back, but he'd rejected her. Without anyone to support her, she'd spiraled herself. Not into a bottle like him, but into a cycle of depression and withdrawal that was essentially the same thing.

She'd left Stanford. There was no way she could attend classes, let alone act like a normal college student. Not when the entire foundation of her life had been ripped away. Back in New York she'd made some halfhearted efforts to look at returning to school, but her passion for becoming a lawyer—like her parents—had burned to ash.

Her mother's case had turned cold, and the prattle of the detectives assigned to investigate had revealed just how little they'd cared. The inadequacy of the system consumed her, and she'd found a new career: homicide detective. She'd find justice and uncover the truth for the wretched souls left behind. She'd hunt the guilty; make them pay the consequences of their sins.

The idea grew in appeal the longer she thought about it. An idea she committed to one late July night while cleaning up after her drunken father. She was done trying to pull him out of a bottle. She'd take matters into her own hands and find answers on her own.

She discovered that the NYPD Police Academy hires twice a year: July and January. Each class took six months of intensive training. She'd missed the July entry so had targeted January. She wasn't concerned about getting in. She was determined, intelligent, and persistent. More than qualified on paper.

The fact that she'd felt dead inside was an advantage, in her eyes. Emotions complicated her quest for justice; she was finished with them. If she somehow hadn't been hired in January she'd have pursued the July hiring, and so on until she got in. Failure wasn't an option.

But here it was the end of November and she was far from New York. Living in a flea-bag _pension_ in Tahiti without a plan for what came next. Not sure that she cared enough to try and figure it out. Halfway around the world and she still had no answers to questions she didn't know how to ask. Living in paradise hadn't clarified anything for her.

Her friend Lanie was to blame for her current circumstances. They'd met through friends of friends at a party in high school. Lanie was ambitious, just like Kate had been when the only problems in her life were which boy to date and how to avoid her parents when sneaking out at night. She'd been so naïve. So innocent about the dark world in those carefree days.

Kate was going to be the first female Chief Justice of the Supreme Court. Lanie wanted to be a medical examiner and had planned out her life over the next decade already: college, medical school, residency. They'd kept in touch through college, despite a distance that spanned the continental United States: Kate in California, with Lanie attending Cornell. After Johanna's death, Kate had received an awkward call from her friend. '_Sorry your mom died,_' is never easy to do over a phone.

Avoiding Lanie—well, everyone in general—after her mother's murder was a self-preservation mechanism. She couldn't bear to discuss the horrific depths she'd sunk to with friends who had no idea what it was like to lose a parent. Losing both her mother and father had made her into a person who trusted no one, not even people she'd previously considered confidantes.

She hadn't counted on Lanie's determination. The woman was like a dog with a bone when it came to Kate Beckett. Hundreds of ignored phone calls on Kate's end had led Lanie to ambush her at Kate's parents' house, where she'd been trying to get her dad sober in the late summer. One look at Lanie and Kate had nearly fallen apart, defenses breached by the sympathy and strength she saw in Lanie's eyes. She'd finally had someone to lean on just a little; someone to prop her up.

When Lanie had learned of her intention to enter the academy that January in order to pursue her mother's case, she'd put her foot down.

"Nu-uh Kate Beckett. No way—no _how_— are you doing that in your current frame of mind."

Kate had glared at her and tried to cut her off, but Lanie wasn't having any of it.

"You know what you need? You need to get out of the city for a while. You need to get away from everything and figure out how to live again."

Kate had turned away from her. Lanie had no idea what she needed. She needed her parents back. Going away wouldn't change anything.

"Kate, listen to me. What you're doing right now is _not_ working, girlfriend. You go through with this plan of yours and all you're ever going to be is your job. That's not a life; it's an existence."

Kate had shrugged. Lanie'd continued, voice softer.

"You need to find yourself again. When you do, if the NYPD academy is still what you want, then by all means go for it. But first you're leaving this city; hell, this country if you need to. Now, tell me I'm wrong."

Kate's heart had pounded faster and faster as she'd listened, fists clenched and nostrils flaring. She'd tensed, ready to erupt, but Lanie had suddenly wrapped her in her arms, hugging her tight. It was so unexpected, Kate hadn't known what to do. She'd broken down into tears for the first time since her mother had been murdered. She'd been so tired of trying to be strong, trying to hold it together.

Lanie had held her for a good twenty minutes while she'd finally let go of some of the heartache. When her sobbing had been reduced to hiccups and silent tears she'd sat up, face red and puffy.

"I don't know what to do, Lanie."

"It's simple, Kate. You have to either get away for a while, or start going to counselling. Probably both. Jumping into the academy without addressing what's happened to you is a recipe for disaster."

"Where would I go?"

"Anywhere you want to. You have some extra money saved up, right?"

She had. A pretty good sum, honestly. Most of it from her mom's life insurance policy. She'd never wanted to touch it, but perhaps getting away from the city for a while would be a gift her mom would've _wanted_ for her. Lanie's words had the ring of truth to them. She _would_ bury herself in the work of a cop. She _wanted_ to bury herself in the work of a cop. She'd live for the fight; for revenge. Not for herself, or for her own life. For the dead, and those they left behind. For her mom.

"We're almost to fall. Why don't you go somewhere warm for a while? The Caribbean? Or really go crazy. Go to South America, or Australia. Surely there is something out there you've always wanted to do?"

"Well, I've always wanted to see New Zealand. Maybe a nice warm island beach too, like Fiji."

"Ok, let's check it out. And don't think you're just gonna to blow this off. I'm gonna to bug you like crazy until you show me airline tickets and an itinerary."

Kate couldn't help but laugh a little at that. Her friend knew her too well. So, she'd done some research and bought tickets for New Zealand.

She'd arrived in late October. It was a breathtaking country, but she'd been just as miserable as she'd been in New York. Everywhere she went she couldn't help but imagine how much her mother would have loved the sights as well. It'd been lonely trekking around alone. She was too introverted; too wrapped in her own tragedy to attract any company. She was too dead inside to even care about making friends.

After leaving New Zealand she'd headed for Australia. Had seen kangaroos, wallabies, and koalas. But she'd still had a gaping hole in her life that separated her from normal people. Happy people. It was though all the scenery had a pall cast over it: the colors were less saturated, less vibrant than they should be. Her blackness sucked light from everything and everyone around her.

With two more weeks open until her return to the States, she'd decided to look for a nice beach to spend time on. She'd hoped laying in the sun soaking up solar radiation like a reptile would simultaneously warm her heart an iota or two.

Australia had some lovely beaches, which almost distracted her enough to forget the pain of celebrating her birthday without her parents. Beaches coupled with plenty of alcohol let her forget most of the day she turned twenty years old. Yet it wasn't enough. The sheer size of the country and number of tourists should've helped her in her quest to lose herself, but instead she'd ended up feeling even more vulnerable than ever.

That's when she'd decided to head somewhere smaller. Fiji had been a temptation, until she saw a brochure for French Polynesia. Tahiti sounded so exotic, and having some ability with French made it all the more romantic. Not that she wanted _actual_ romance; she just wanted to find a magical place that might heal some of the hurt that was still so raw almost one year later.

She did feel marginally better on the island than she'd felt anywhere else. It was so beautiful; the people were so open and friendly. But she was still an outsider. Not tied to anyone; no one to care about her, and she had no one to care about. The loneliness seemed overwhelming at times; gloomy shade was just as black whether cast by a palm tree or a New York skyscraper.

The only bright spot that'd drawn her out of her shell was the discovery of a local coffee shop near the cheap _pension_ where she was staying. Owned by a wonderful couple, Hoanui and Puaura Temaru, she'd become a fixture there every morning. Both proprietors had taken an interest in her, plying her with different types of coffee to try; trying to cajole her out of the obvious depression she was mired in.

It was through conversations with them that she'd first had the idea of traveling out to some of the surrounding islands. Maybe seeing how people lived a meaningful life despite living far from what most would consider the civilized world would be the balm she needed.

Unfortunately, most of the passenger fares on the innumerable sailboats that plied the Polynesian seas were much higher than she'd wanted to pay. She still had to get back to New Zealand to use her return ticket. That's when the Temarus had come to her rescue. They'd suggested a cargo boat called the _Iriata_ that would take passengers much more cheaply. They were friends with the captain, Anapa. When they told her about Hina, his wife and a busy native healer, she was fascinated. It'd be a great opportunity to see the culture of the islands up close.

They'd learned the _Iriata_ had come into port the previous night. After getting directions from the Temarus, she'd headed to the docks mid-morning. They'd warned her that the boat might be empty, but she had nothing else to do. She would wander around the busy port for a while if she couldn't locate anyone on the _Iriata_.

She'd found it without too much trouble. French was the official language in the islands, and her language skills in that tongue were fairly good. Not as great as her Ukrainian and Russian, but enough to get the point across and discover what information that she needed.

The _Iriata_ was not a very attractive boat at first sight. A mottled blue hull spoke of a paint job in the remote past, now marred by splotches of rust. She wasn't a sailboat, and seemed quite squat and ungraceful compared to the sleeker outlines of her kin. Yet Kate could see she was neatly kept; nothing out of place, though she was no expert by far.

The front of the boat had a raised deck accessed by two short ladders on either side of the boat. A long column rose out of this upper deck and terminated in a crane mechanism. It's arm hung over the cargo holds that took up most of the middle of the ship.

At the back of the ship rose a three level structure that she assumed held the cabins and cockpit of the boat. If anyone was on the rusty old boat, they'd most likely be found there.

Unable to see anyone, she ventured a few hellos as she stared at the back of the boat. Nothing moved even after shouting several times. They might not be able to hear her from the distance, but clambering aboard without an invitation seemed like bad manners.

Hope at finding someone flagged after three or four shouts. She turned to stroll back to the beginning of the dock when she heard a deep male voice above her.

"Can I help you?" His tone was amused. It was an American voice, and to her shock, he sounded like a New Yorker.

She pivoted to face him but could barely make out any of his features due to silhouetting from the morning sun. She could tell he was tall, but not much else. He was standing on the raised deck in the front part boat, one leg jauntily resting on the railing. A shiver ran through her as the image of a pirate popped into her head.

"Hello. The Temarus told me that you sometimes take passengers on your cargo runs? I'd like to know how much you charge? I'm really interested in seeing the other islands."

He was silent; stone still. Just staring at her. She frowned, raising a hand to shield her eyes to try and see him better. She'd heard him speak English without any accent. Surely he'd understood her. Suddenly it hit her: English might be his first language, but was he bright enough to understand her questions? If he were 'challenged' it would explain why he alone had been left behind on the boat.

"I want to be a passenger." She kept her voice slow and clear, hoping he'd catch on, but he remained silent. Sighing, she turned away. She'd have to come back later to find the captain himself. There was no way to leave a message with this oaf.

She was curious how an American with limited mental facilities had ended up working on a boat in the South Pacific. He appeared to be capable physically—while she couldn't see details of his face due to the sun, what she could see of his body looked quite fit and muscular. That was sure to be an advantage on a ship. This might be the only job he could perform.

She'd have to come back; there was no helping it. She didn't lack time. She had nothing _but_ time. She just hoped if she did end up on this boat that he wouldn't stand and stare whenever they were together. It made her very uncomfortable. Did he act this way with all women, or just those who were English speaking?

* * *

**March 2010**

Rick looked up from the keyboard, neck sore from his hunched posture. "How much time do we have left?"

"Maybe another half hour. They're fairly lenient for a first time meeting. We'll be pushing our luck, and garnering unwanted attention, if we draw it out though," Afaitu replied.

"Well, this is just the beginning. Of ten years. How am I supposed to write this story if we've such limited time for our meetings?" Rick pounded a fist on the table. He _had_ to make sure Kate was safe; had to find her first. It would take forever to type their story out if he and Afaitu could only meet for a few hours a day. He could only type so fast.

"I don't suppose you have access to a pen and paper?" His new lawyer's question broke into his panicked thoughts.

"Well, sure. Most of the prisoners spend a lot of time writing their families."

"So writing isn't a suspicious activity?" Afaitu stared at him, so focused on this one matter. Rick raised an eyebrow; he had an inkling of where this question was leading.

"Not usually. Depending on what you're writing I suppose."

The problem was that anything a prisoner wrote and sent by mail was subject to being read by the authorities. One of many reasons he'd never bothered to write anyone. He was certain _his_ letters would be shredded before they got to the mailbox.

"How do you spend your days?"

"Watching my back. Reading."

"Not writing?" Afaitu voiced his surprise. Rick could see the words, "But you're an author" on the tip of his tongue.

"No. To what end? They can read anything I write."

"Ah, but you have all these hours just sitting around. We need to take advantage of them."

"How?" Rick's eyes narrowed. He'd never found a way around all the obstacles, though he'd longed to spend some of his time escaping his physical and mental incarcerations through writing.

"You ever invented your own code?"

Rick considered the younger man for a minute. Sincerity was pouring out of the younger man's eyes. There were some risks, but the advantage if it worked would be worth it.

"I invented a code when I was a teenager. Wrote several stories in it while I was in a boarding school whose headmaster was less than impressed with my literary efforts."

"This'd be the same concept. Type out the key on the laptop and then you'll be able to spend your spare time writing your story."

"You've time to sit around and decipher it?"

"Honestly, no. But Tamahere has nothing else to do and he wants to help. I'll give it to him. He can type it up while he translates it."

For the first time since he'd been set adrift on a boat that had carried him far from the love of his life, Richard Rodgers smiled.

"You know, I think this might work. When will you come back?"

"I'll be back tomorrow. No one will question a lawyer who is meeting with a new client frequently. If they do, we'll just tell them you're preparing a new will or something."

Rick started typing out the code. It was a letter substitute, though it changed depending on the paragraph. Not foolproof, but also not simple to crack and easy enough to decipher with the key.

"What if they are suspicious of my interest in writing?"

"You're a writer. It's what you do. Most of the guards and personnel here speak French and Tahitian only. They probably won't recognize that it's random words in English, and if they do just tell them you're trying out different ideas for a sci fi story or something. Their eyes'll glaze over before you finish your sentence. These are prison guards; they aren't high on intellectual pursuits."

That night, back in his cell, Rick looked out of the large, barred window that supplied his only fresh air. Neck craned awkwardly to see beyond the overhang of the floor above his, he could just make out the full moon shining silent, silvery rays. He hoped she was looking up at it at the same time.

He clutched the start of the rest of their story tightly to his chest, scribbled out on loose sheaf over the last few hours. Closing his eyes, he prayed. That she was ok. That _they_ were ok. That she could still feel his love even separated for so long and so far. That she hadn't given up on him.

But most of all, that Rick or one of his new friends would be the first to find her.

* * *

**Information about the NYPD academy is from www dot nyc dot gov/html/nypd/html/police_academy/police_academy dot shtml. **


	5. Chapter 5: A Passage to Raivavae

**This chapter is dedicated to wolfergirl. She responded to my twitter plea regarding help with oceanic navigation and general boat knowledge. I have none: she agreed to help. I had made several mistakes in my assumptions while reading about ships and navigation; she very helpfully corrected them. Thank you so much for reading my initial stab at describing it all, and for teaching me what I needed to know to get it closer to reality.**

* * *

**March 2010**

Afaitu's eyes widened when Rick handed him a fistful of papers at their meeting the next day.

"You did all this last night?"

"And this morning. Not much else to do."

Afaitu peered at the man. He seemed lighter somehow. As if writing their story had eased the burden of grief he was carrying. Or perhaps it was that he was finally able to do something proactively to help find Miss Beckett—to help her himself.

"Ok, I'll take these to Tamahere tonight. He's pretty excited about reading what happened to you. Helping you."

"Do you have any ideas on that end? Something that won't reveal that Kate is still alive?"

"Yes," was the terse reply.

"Care to share?"

"Not yet. I'm working it through in my head. Once I have a better idea I'll let you know."

"What should I do? I'll go crazy if I can't help." Rick had begun pacing in front of the table. His staccato gait reflected his anguish.

"Keep writing."

Rick paused, glancing at Afaitu with a hopeful look. "Keep writing?"

"That's the most valuable thing you can do right now. We need the full story for some of the ideas I'm working on to free you. You're the only one who can tell it; it's the priority until you're released."

Rick nodded. Afaitu stood and clasped the other man on his shoulder. "I won't be back for a couple days, but when I do I expect I'll find a novel waiting for me, if this is what you can do in a day," he shook the completed papers before placing them in his briefcase.

"Be careful what you wish for," Rick grinned. There was a lilt of humor in it, the first Afaitu had heard him use. Pleased at Rick's improved spirits, he caught his breath as he considered what would happen if anything went wrong. So much was riding on such very thin hopes.

That night, after driving randomly around Mo'orea for a solid hour, Afaitu pulled onto a dirt road that disappeared into the jungle. He pulled his car in just enough that no one would see it from the road, got out and waited. Tamahere ghosted his way out of the thick underbrush and accepted a copy of the flash drive and the loose papers Rick had written.

"How is he?" He was dying for news of his friend.

"Better. When I told him your message he was visibly moved. I think he's felt very alone and scared for most of this ordeal. Writing seems to be cathartic for him. Though I shudder to think about what will happen should we fail."

"Then we'd better not."

"Let's start with understanding exactly what happened; only then we can begin planning what to do. Call me tomorrow when you've finished."

"Will do," replied Tamahere, already walking back through the brush. He'd found a small house to rent on the island. Paid in cash, using his assumed name. It wouldn't keep them from finding him if they were looking. But it wasn't an obvious neon sign to what he was really doing, either. At least he wasn't on Tahiti, which he figured would raise all kinds of red flags. Mo'orea was close enough to Tahiti to be convenient, but far enough away he thought they'd ignore him.

Reaching his rental, Tamahere paused only to make some coffee while firing up his laptop. The one good thing about receiving a government payoff for years was that he had no lack of funds. And while he'd always hated spending the blood money in the past, he had no such compunctions now. He'd be happy to use any means he had to free Hopo and find Kate. There was a certain delicious irony when he considered the source of his funding and its use now.

He sat down, steaming mug in hand, and read through the first two chapters Hopo had typed up. Then, calling up the key, he set about translating the papers and unveiling the subsequent chapters. It was a fascinating story. He'd lived through it all, but his perspective was quite different from Hopo's and Kate's, of course.

He marveled at the detail Hopo had brought to the tale, though of course he _was _a writer. This was no quick rehash or summary of their ten years together. It was their story, told by a man with the ability to ensnare the interest of others through his use of language.

Hopo's words were simultaneously a love story as well as a weapon against those that had betrayed them. As he typed it out, Tamahere wondered what the world would think of their actions so long ago. This would become the definitive accounting. He hoped he'd be remembered for what he was doing now and not for what had happened back then.

* * *

**November 1999**

Stunned into silence by the vision in front of him, she walked away before he understood what she was asking. Shaking his head, Rick couldn't figure out what had happened. He'd been around plenty of beautiful women; had his share. Bestselling author in his early twenties tended to bring them out of the woodwork in droves. Plus, he was a good looking guy. But inexplicably this woman had driven all rational thought from his brain.

She was out of earshot by the time he realized that she'd been asking for passage. Anapa would be disappointed if he knew. However, it was probably for the best, given his unusual reaction to her. Close quarters on a ship would be torture.

The interruption soured his mood for writing, so he decided to wander around until his head cleared. He whistled at Gaston again, then walked down to the pier where men wanting crew work often gathered.

"_Toute cuisiner_?" The interested looks he'd been getting dried up quickly. Many of the men were willing to crew for a time, but few would cook. It wasn't a popular job. One young man kept looking over at him. He looked fit and strong enough to do some loading or unloading, as well as cook. His scruffy clothes and long greasy hair didn't lend an air of trustworthiness, but it was Anapa's decision to hire or not. Many shady characters straightened their act out when they found they were dealing with the legendary captain.

However, the guy wouldn't approach him directly. Rick's French wasn't good enough to give full details of the job, and many distrusted him solely due to him being a non-Polynesian. Rick turned away with a growl in his chest. It was hard to find help in the islands; men that could be trusted in taking a shift alone on the boat were in scarce supply. Most of his present co-workers were related to or the sons of friends of Anapa and Hina. Strangers in Papeete were a crapshoot.

He'd walked ten steps back towards the ship when he heard someone following him. A tiny grin graced his visage; he waited a few more steps before asking, "_Que voulez-vous_?"

"Job. I cook."

Rick stopped and looked the man over. He was young; younger than him. This wasn't a concern, as most island boys grew up knowing how to move about the ocean safely. They didn't have to learn the tricks that Rick had to; it was intertwined in their DNA.

"What's your name?"

"Tane."

"Ok, Tane, I'm Rick. I'll take you to the boat. Cap'll be back soon, he'll talk with you."

Tane nodded and they set out for the _Iriata_ together.

Rick showed Tane where to wait for Anapa, then busied himself with some of the chores common aboard a ship: splicing lines, repairing some chains, repainting an area that had been gouged down to metal, etc. Rick had learned how important even small details could be: in the middle of a crisis having a frayed rope might bring on doom. Anapa and the other crewmen had taught him well. He hadn't been born to the sea, but he'd worked hard to learn, and was reliable and honest in all of his dealings with the others. He'd achieved the polar opposite of his persona before he had come to the South Pacific.

Some of the other crewmen had initially objected to the presence of a _marite_, or an American, who knew nothing of ships joining them. They'd all come around (more or less) eventually. Rick's bubbly and friendly natural personality had won them over to some degree. He was generous to a fault as well, and all the crew had at least one story in which Rick had helped them out of a scrape.

He cherished his time at sea; it was peaceful most of the time, yet covert danger lurked all around. The ocean was a fickle mistress, and he'd learned how to judge her mood from a master: Anapa couldn't remember a time in his life when he'd not spent at least part of his day in the caress of her waves.

The sound of a Polynesian sea chant sung at full volume announced his captain's presence on the dock approaching the _Iriata_. Rick moved to the gangway to greet him; Tane trailed behind and tried to look as presentable as possible.

Anapa skipped down the dock, grinning from ear to ear. "Hopo, good news, good news. This is going to be a great cargo run for us. Lots of fun."

Rick nodded. Anapa was often excited by any cargo that took them out into the more remote islands. Judging by how happy the captain was, this was going to be a long one.

"Captain, this is Tane; he's applying to be our cook."

Anapa peered at the scruffy young man and nodded slowly, greeting him in Tahitian, "_Ia ora na_. I'll talk to you next. Hopo, they'll be bringing part of the cargo to start loading within the next hour or two. We get the rest and the passenger tomorrow, on Mo'orea."

Rick's mouth fell open as he remembered the beautiful woman from earlier in the day. Could she be the passenger? Yet she'd sought passage here in Papeete. Why would she then take a ferry to Mo'orea? Well, there could be reasons, though he hoped Anapa was referring to someone else. That woman was trouble, he was certain.

"Mo'orea? Are we gonna be hopping around the Societies?" Rick's understanding of French Polynesia had expanded dramatically once he began crewing. Multiple groups of islands made up the country. The Society Islands were the heart of everything, with islands such as Tahiti (and the capital, Papeete), Mo'orea, and Bora Bora included in the group. However, there were multiple other groups, such as the Marquesas, Tuamotu, Gambier, Bass islands and the Australs. Altogether, there were more than 100 islands, though not all were inhabited by anything other than birds and small animals.

"_Aita_," Anapa denied. "We're taking a relative of Pierre Grollet out to Raivavae. Name of Henri. Just got here from France, and he'll be on Mo'orea with the last of the supplies he needs for a new agricultural business."

Rick pumped his fist in the air and muttered a quick, "Yes!" Raivavae was one of the Australs. Reputed to be one of the wildest appearing islands, it featured a turquoise lagoon and mountain slopes covered in ferns. Over 630 kilometers from Papeete he'd yet to see it, but had hoped one of their trips would take them there.

"This Henri, he's helping set up a new farm there, so we're taking a bunch of supplies for their homesteading efforts." Anapa paused with a gleam in his eye that Rick had seen before. Sucking in a deep breath, he waited for the punchline. He didn't have long to wait.

"Did I mention the chickens?" wheezed the old man, slapping his knee and shaking with laughter.

Chickens!

Rick clenched his fists and shook his head. Chickens, oh that was bad news. Hauling livestock was a messy business anytime; chickens were especially loathsome to him. The smell in the cargo hold with chickens…oh, he hated chickens.

"How many?"

Anapa stopped laughing long enough to answer, "_Maha 'ahuru_," but nearly fell over when Rick swore in French, English and Tahitian. Forty. God help them, the odor would be overwhelming.

"Have you checked the weather? I saw Rahiti today and he said there was a tropical depression down by the Australs."

Anapa nodded. "_E_, yes, it's east of where we'll be headed. We'll need to watch it though."

Anapa then took Tane up to the galley to discuss matters of employment while Rick returned to his busy work. He would have more time to write tonight; for now there were plenty of odd jobs to keep him busy.

Within an hour their open cook position had been filled by Tane, who disembarked to make arrangements on land for his upcoming absence. The rest of the crew returned and were told of the long run with various reactions. They mostly preferred short hops among the Societies. Papeete was home, and staying close meant they could enjoy the creature comforts more often. The chicken news was greeted with disfavor, though the more senior crew wouldn't have to deal with their daily care. They were good men though; all adored Anapa and Hina. They'd do anything for them.

* * *

An hour later the cargo arrived. With the assistance of the crane, and a lot of hard work, it was all quickly stored away, balanced carefully in the holds. The majority consisted of pallets with barrels of seeds, but there were also fruit tree seedlings and a bunch of tools. Then there were the chickens. They took up an entire hold, covered with a mesh net rather than the waterproof hard cover. One hold was left empty for the last supplies they'd pick up on Mo'orea.

By the time everything was safely secured Rick was filthy, hot and sweaty. Glancing at the afternoon sun, he bounced on his toes when he saw that he'd have plenty of time to enjoy a free evening. The breeze was perfect, driving away a bit of the tropical heat, and the sky was that perfect shade of blue he'd come to associate with the South Pacific.

His first order of business was to get off the boat for a hot shower. He liked to stay at a local boarding house when he was in port and didn't have to stay on the ship. He'd already bid Anapa farewell and was about to step on the gangplank when he heard his name being called. Turning back around he saw Ari'i, the first mate and the only native crewman whose home was not on Tahiti. He was from one of the far flung Marquesa islands.

"Hopo, I forgot to mail this letter to my family. Are you going to la poste?"

Rick nodded. He had one last chapter of his first novel featuring Derrick Storm to write after his shower. In the morning, he'd have time to send the ending Black Pawn before they sailed. Opening his waterproof bag, he stuffed the letter inside with his papers, and bid the older man _nana, _or goodbye in Tahitian.

Turning sharply, his only thoughts centered on disembarking, showering, and a hot meal. As he moved, a soft and slightly squishy object rammed into him. Before he could register what was happening, he reached out instinctively and steadied the offending entity, which emitted a whoosh followed immediately by an indignant inspiration.

Fortunately, the other man was light and easily steadied by his hands, which were still firmly attached to the other body. "Sorry about that," he began to apologize when the guy he'd run into gave a muffled yelp and followed it with a stinging slap to his face.

Looking down he realized several things simultaneously. One, it was very much _not_ a guy. Two, he was still latched on with both hands to the body part he'd grabbed. Three, it was not just any body part: it was her chest. Four, it was the woman who'd been on the dock earlier that day. And five (most important of all), she was _not_ happy with his current hand placement. Oh, and one more thing. Six, she was absolutely far more gorgeous up close than she was twenty feet below him.

Kate had wandered around looking at other options after her less than satisfying meeting that morning at the _Iriata_. Unfortunately, the sailing boats that specialized in passengers were far out of her league and tended to fill with families, the very thing she wanted to escape. She needed no reminders of what she'd lost forever. Desperate to find something, she'd come back to the _Iriata _that afternoon.

There was a lot more activity, both on board the _Iriata_ and on the surrounding vessels this time around. She could hear indistinct male voices talking on the deck, though she couldn't see anyone directly.

Shouting didn't work; no one seemed to hear due to the cacophony filling the air. Biting her lip, she put one foot onto the gangway. Would it be rude to just walk aboard? But they'd likely prefer not to lose a paying customer if no one could hear her. Decision made, she strode up the rickety boards. There was no handrail, and the angle was steep enough to make her glad she was wearing sneakers.

Reaching the top, she heaved a sigh. Eyes locked on the gangway, she was about to step off onto the security of the deck when a solid mass plowed into her. Falling, she pin-wheeled her arms, trying and losing the battle to maintain her balance. Closing her eyes, she was about to scream when something caught her chest and pulled her upright again. Blinking hard and gasping for air, she looked up to see what had happened. A large, very dirty man was clutching her boobs. Firmly.

He was strong, that was certain, as he'd handled her like a rag doll. And now that she was safe from falling, there was definitely no further need for him to be groping her. She wasn't a life preserver, though his grip on her reminded her of a man drowning: clutching the only thing he could find. She reached up and slapped his face in rebuke.

"Get your hands off me, you ape!"

He released his hands immediately then stood gawping at her. She recognized him now immediately: the mute man from earlier that day. Up close she could see he was rather tall, with piercing blue eyes and wavy brown hair. His well-trimmed beard prevented her from seeing the rest of his face, but it gave him a rakish air. He had a very tanned and buffed body under all the dirt and grime; she could appreciate that even more now that they were so close to each other. He looked familiar, but she wasn't sure why. He didn't look like anyone she knew.

He remained silent and she suddenly was reminded of their encounter earlier. He understood her; he'd spoken flawless English. Yet he seemed to have trouble keeping up with a simple conversation. He must be quite slow-witted. Still, that didn't give him the right to molest any women he might run into.

"Just what do you think you were doing?"

"I was…I was…I was trying to leave the boat."

"Well, here's a tip for you: women don't like it when you just reach out and grab their chests."

He stood stock still for another few seconds; she was revising her previous conclusion from 'slow-witted' to 'complete imbecile' when he visibly relaxed and gave her a small smile.

"I'm not used to having to rescue women from falling down in my presence."

His eyes gleamed with a spark of intelligence; she flushed. He was definitely not simple. Her heart lurched.

"I guess I have to remind you that you were the one knocking me down before you groped me."

"_Au contraire, mademoiselle_. I was distracted by a shipmate as I was leaving the boat, and when I turned around it was _you_ running into _me_. I merely saved you from certain injury. Whether _just_ to your pride or simply to your lovely body we'll never know. I'd be happy to examine you for any bruising I may have _accidentally_ caused." He smirked, confident in his ability to charm almost any woman less than forty years old.

Now it was Kate's turn to be speechless. She'd made the mistake of underestimating him. This man was capable of matching wits with her; that was obvious. She felt a slight tingle run through her body and stamped it down. He had an incredible body, true, but his ability to spar with her verbally was just as attractive. She hadn't met anyone in a long time, maybe ever, who could really keep up with her.

She sternly reminded herself she wasn't here for an ill-fated love affair. She was here to meet with the captain and convince him to let her travel with them at the cheapest price possible. Besides, how often would she be in the crew's presence? They'd likely not run into each other during the trip. She hoped.

"I'm looking for the captain. Do you think you could manage to tell me where he is without accosting me again?" Her tone was sharp. She couldn't let him think she enjoyed talking to him.

He might have flushed, though it was hard to tell under all the dirt. "Yes, Captain Anapa is on the bridge."

Disoriented from their encounter, she turned the wrong way. However, instead of tapping her on the shoulder to redirect her, he just loudly cleared his throat. It was her turn to blush when he pointed with one hand at the bridge. His message was loud and clear: he hadn't touched her after her cutting remarks.

"Thank you." She could be the bigger person here, and be nice. Still, he'd deserved some of the blame. Her left boob, in particular, was still protesting its rough handling: the man's hands were strong.

"Take the stairs to the top deck. That's the bridge." He strode off, not even bothering to wait and see if she went the right direction this time. Granted, it'd be hard to get lost on a ship this size, but he was no gentleman, that was certain. Shaking her head she stomped over to the end of the boat.

An exterior staircase ran up the side of the three story structure. She peered into the doorways on the landings as she climbed, but they were very dark and she couldn't see anything. The last landing opened onto the bridge, which took up the entire deck. A ship's wheel stood in the center with a long counter in front of it and windows that ran the length. She had an excellent view of the boat and surrounding docks up here.

Seated in a chair behind the wheel was a white haired man, with the evidence of years at sea written in the wrinkles of his skin. He was short; shorter than she was, though she was tall for a woman. Wiry muscles crossed his thin frame. He looked nothing like the Skipper from Gilligan's Island, but given how that ship had ended up it was a good thing.

"Hello." She gave a little knock on the doorframe at the same time. "Are you Captain Anapa? I was told I could find you up here."

The man looked up from the charts he had been studying and gave her a wide smile. "_Ia ora na. Bonjour_. Both mean hello and welcome to my boat. How can I help you?"

Kate thought him utterly charming and suddenly hoped the fare would be within her reach. Reassured by his kind eyes, she plunged forward.

"Sir, I'm Kate Beckett. I've been staying here in Papeete and met the Temarus."

Anapa nodded, his smile growing wider at the mention of his friends. "They told me you sometimes take passengers with you, and I was hoping I could work something out with you for your next trip."

"_E_, yes. I saw Hoanui earlier today and he mentioned you. We typically move between the other Society Islands, like Bora Bora. However, we've actually gotten a cargo today for the Australs, to an island called Raivavae."

Seeing her blank look, he continued. "The Australs are much further away, though they are all part of French Polynesia. I'm afraid it will be a much longer trip. If you're still interested I wouldn't charge much more than a normal passage. We plan to stop at a couple islands, so you'll see more than you would from a ferry to Mo'orea."

Kate didn't really care where they went. She just wanted to get out away from the touristy vibe that Papeete had and see how the more remote islanders lived.

"How long would it take?" She did have a plane to catch in a few weeks.

"It's about 2 days there, then back again. We'll make a few other stops, so I'd say a week. Also, if you'd be interested, we could employ you in some work. I'd drop the price substantially in exchange for your assistance."

Kate laughed. She wasn't afraid to work, and this had the makings of an absolutely unique experience.

"I'm definitely interested. What kind of work are you thinking about? I don't know anything about sailing or boats in general."

"My wife, Hina, is a healer. She often needs help preparing treatments and carrying things. At our stops there'll be a high demand for her services and she can't do everything herself. One of the crew, Hopo, assists her but he'll have other duties that will keep him busy."

"I'd love to help her. If I can afford it, that is."

Told the price, Kate almost jumped up and hugged the man. For the first time on her trip, she shook off her grief for a time and let the fizzing excitement over this new adventure carry her forward.

Told to be on board early the next morning, she rushed off to her _pension_ to settle up and re-pack her few items. She entirely forgot about the other American she'd dealt with on the ship and the disquiet he invoked in her. She put off a tour of the boat until she re-boarded. Perhaps she might have thought twice when she saw just how close-quartered everyone would be for the week's journey.


	6. Chapter 6: Casting Off to Parts Unknown

**This chapter is dedicated to AAR1806. One of my first supporters here on fanfiction, she has been a great person to chat to about random stuff, advice on the best Latin rock bands for me to check out, and occasional consults regarding computer issues. ****Me gusta mucho hablar contigo en español y he tenido la placer en conocerte. ****Muchísimas gracias mi amiga.**

* * *

**November 1999**

Kate was up before dawn, dancing her way through her morning routine before bouncing down to the boat. She'd packed the night before after enjoying a family dinner with the Temarus. They'd been so kind to her; she was reminded that there were a lot of nice, caring people in the world. Opening her heart to them had been difficult, but she'd taken that baby step. Living and working with Anapa and Hina might crack her heart open wider. She wasn't afraid to try.

Arriving on the dock well before the deadline Anapa had given her, she clutched the strap of her backpack as she stared up at the ship in the predawn light. Lights glared down on the deck from multiple angles as men scurried around preparing to get underway. She gulped; she'd never been out on the open ocean. What if she were seasick the whole trip?

"Do you need help with your luggage?"

She jumped, not having heard anyone come up behind her.

"No, this is all I have." She turned to see who the deep voice belonged to and found herself looking into the sparkling blue eyes of the man who'd groped her yesterday.

"I want to apologize for grabbing you yesterday. I didn't mean to touch you…there. I was just trying to keep you from falling."

So, he was capable of good manners. Cleaned up he looked, in a word, well…delicious. No doubt women were falling all over him wherever he went. This morning he was dressed simply: a pair of jeans and a form fitting t-shirt. He had a bag over his shoulder too. Her heart was beating faster and faster—the excitement of the trip, no doubt.

"I'm Rick Rodgers by the way. We haven't been introduced, but I figured since you're joining us on this run we should know each other's names. Welcome to the _Iriata_."

She shook his outstretched hand but jolted back when a tingle of electricity shot through her. What was it about this man that left her so…disturbed?

"I'm Kate. Kate Beckett. And thanks. Where should I go now?"

"Anapa will be up on the bridge again. Just let him know you're here and someone will show you to your berth. It isn't much, but we spend most of our time in the saloon or on deck anyway."

She nodded briefly then started up the gangplank. Rick watched her for a minute; that had gone much better, though she'd jumped when he touched her hand. Had she felt the same spark he did, or was she remembering his hands on her chest? She unsettled him in ways no one else had ever done.

Really, it wasn't a surprise the presence of a beautiful woman had made him react….strongly. He'd been celibate for the past year, after all. There was no mystery to his response. But even as he tried to dismiss the image of her gleaming hazel eyes, the lie he wanted to believe wouldn't take hold. There was something about _this_ woman that fired his imagination. She was young, maybe no more than twenty, but her eyes had a depth to them that he'd not seen in people twice as old.

Yes, there was something about her… shaking his head he focused on the job at hand. She was a passenger, pure and simple. She'd take her trip, leave and that would be it. He had no business wanting to know more about her when he'd forget who she was as soon as she left. Just like she'd forget him.

* * *

Kate found Anapa speaking to a woman who, remarkably, was smaller even than he. She was equally wizened, but had bright eyes that revealed a quick wit and joy of life.

"You must be Kate! _Maeva_! _Manava_! Welcome aboard. It will be nice to have another woman around for a change. I'm Hina, and I know you already met my husband, Anapa."

Kate beamed at her. "Yes, thank you so much. I can't wait to see what it's like out on the ocean and islands."

"Well, we'll be leaving soon. We have another passenger to collect; we're actually taking him to an island called Raivavae. He'll be staying in the main guest cabin, since he booked with us before you. But there is another berth, though smaller I'm afraid. I hope that it meets your needs."

"Please, don't worry. Anapa explained the trip to me yesterday. I'm very excited about the opportunity to venture out, no matter the accommodations. There were some ships where I was considering deck service, so just having a cabin is a luxury, no matter the size."

"Well, we spend a lot of time in the saloon. It's where we eat our meals and spend down time. Most of the crew hangs out there, though Hopo likes to sit out on the bow and write."

Kate nodded. She imagined sitting up front and watching the beautiful azure waves would be pretty exciting. If she wasn't seasick, which would make for a miserable trip.

"Let me take you on a brief tour before we get underway," Hina said, walking towards the stairs that led to the decks below the bridge.

They descended to the first two levels of the structure, where the living quarters were located. They were on two decks, with the third, and topmost, being the bridge Kate was already familiar with. The first deck held the crew's bunk room and the saloon for meals. The tiny galley was off another door; inside the new cook, Tane, was introduced to her. He looked at home in the miniature kitchen; she hoped ship food in the South Pacific was as interesting as that available on Tahiti.

On the second level, she was shown the private cabins; the largest was for Anapa and Hina. Her tiny room contained a twin bed on one wall and a built in wardrobe on the opposite wall, with a small open space near the floor for bulky items. There was a miniscule window that could be opened to help with the heat that built inexorably under the tropical sun. The whole room was maybe 6 feet in either direction. Still, she was happy to have her own private bunk, unlike the crew's quarters that was one big room. Next door was a larger guest cabin for the man joining them later that day.

Hina then showed her the _fare iti_, or heads—where the toilet facilities were—and the small shower and sink. Everything was shared among the rooms on the second deck, but this didn't bother Kate. She'd known this wouldn't be a luxury cruise. At least the crew had their own head next to their quarters.

Lastly, Hina proudly showed her the final room of this deck, which was a workshop she had created. There were a number of herbs and preparations stocked in cabinets and drawers. Since Kate had agreed to help Hina out during their trip, Hina took the opportunity to show her the basic organization of the work room. It was fascinating, and Kate couldn't wait learn more.

At Hina's suggestion, they moved up to the bridge after finishing the tour. There they'd be able to watch the crew making all the necessary preparations to get underway. They stood quietly behind Anapa, the view from the large windows in front of him captured the entire front of the ship forward of the bridge. It was a commanding scene.

The men moved about non-stop. They worked in concert, seemingly without any direction but each man knew exactly what to do and when to do it. Anapa silently watched everything from the bridge, making adjustments when needed to instruments Kate didn't understand. She saw four other men working at various points of the boat; the American among them was as busy as the rest.

"The man at the bow, the place furthest from us in the front of the ship is Tamahere. He's the youngest, one of my great nephews. He's worked with us for two years." Hina indicated a young man coiling a rope in the front of the boat where she'd first seen the American man standing.

"The older man in the middle is Arenui. He is not related to either of us, but the son of a very good friend. He's been crewing with us off and on for ten years. He's very reliable, but never has had any ambition to do anything but sail with us." Kate could see the man she was talking about. He was taller than the other Polynesian men she had met, solid and muscular like most of the crew seemed to be.

"The man near him is Ari'i. He is from Marquesa, which is why his tattoos are so prominent. It's their custom. He's the first mate and has been saving up to buy his own boat. He's been with us for six years." It was easy to pick out the man she referred to: he had tattoos covering his face, arms, and the part of his trunk that she could see. It was an impressive sight.

"And finally, the white man just below us is Hopo. He's only been with us about a year, but he's learned a lot."

Kate's mouth had dropped open. "That's Hopo? I thought his name was Rick. He introduced himself to me as Rick Rodgers."

Hina shot her a mysterious grin. "Rick Rodgers? Yes, that is his given name. My husband gave him a _ma'ohi_, or Polynesian, name as well; we call him Hopo."

Kate fidgeted, warring with herself over finding out more about the noxious man. Curiosity won out. "I've spoken with him. He sounds like he's American?"

"Yes, he is a _marite_, or American, like you. I believe from New York."

"That's where I'm from too. You said he's worked for you for about a year?"

"_E_, yes. My husband found him on a dock, wandering around. He offered him a job and he learned very quickly despite having no real knowledge of boats previously."

Kate's interest in the man flared higher. Why was he in the South Pacific? Why had he been wandering around? A wave of dizziness passed over when she bit her tongue to keep from asking more. This was the first time since her mother's death that someone outside of her immediate family had sparked her interest. It scared her; she wasn't ready to let go of her grief. Scowling, mouth pinched tight she refused to give him any more power over her than he already held.

"Hopo's become part of our family since he joined us," Hina carried on, unaware of Kate's silent struggle. "He's a kind, generous man. He's grown a lot since he came to us. Anapa and I are quite proud of him."

Kate bit her lip. He certainly was a well-grown male specimen. Shaking her head, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind. To her horror, it was another question about _him._

"I suppose I'll get to know him during the trip. You said most of the crew hangs out in the saloon when they aren't on duty?" She didn't want to know him any better; she'd be leaving in a week, making her way back to real life. Knowing his schedule would make it easier to dodge him. It'd be valuable information.

Hina gave her a penetrating glance, as though she knew exactly why she might be asking about him. "That is true, _tiare_, with the exception of Hopo. He spends a lot of his free time up in the bow."

"What does he do up there?" She cursed her tongue for asking, but why did he have to be so…singular? The upper deck looked empty besides the crane. What was the attraction to him?

"He writes in a notebook most of the time. He can be a solitary person for such an outgoing personality."

"Outgoing personality?" Kate's mouth fell open. He'd barely strung a few sentences together in her presence. And when he'd spoken to her this morning he'd taken particular delight in making her uncomfortable. Or had that been her own disquiet from her physical reaction to him? Whatever, 'outgoing personality' was _not _how she would have described him.

They watched as the crew finished their tasks and Anapa guided the ship out of the dock with ease. Clearing Nanuu Bay, Hina explained that they were headed to Vai'are, Mo'orea for their first stop.

"It's only 17 kilometers from Tahiti to Mo'orea, which is why they call it the Sister Island," Hina remarked, pointing out some of the ferries that ran passengers back and forth all day. "Once we pick up the other passenger, a Monsieur Henri Grollet and the last of his cargo, we'll turn south and east for the Australs."

"Captain Anapa told me yesterday it'd be around a week total?"

"Yes. Our ship is much like Anapa and me. Solid, but slow. She can go 5 knots if the weather is with us. It'll take just over an hour to get to Vai'are. My husband will want to be away as soon as everything is loaded, so I'm afraid you'll have no time to explore." Hina smiled at her husband as he gave a soft grunt at her explanation. It was the only sign Kate'd had that he was listening to their conversation, as he'd been so focused on the ship and guiding it out of the bay.

A roil in her stomach began to fight with the rocking motion of the open water. Closing her eyes, Kate tried to take slow, deep breaths to calm her stomach. The pain deepened once her eyes shut. Would they kick her off the ship if she puked on the bridge? Seeing her distress, Hina led her down to the workshop and gave her some leaves to chew on.

"These will take the edge off. The best place to be is in the bow. Watch the horizon and you'll soon feel better."

Kate wasn't sure she could make it to the bow by herself. Would crawling look bad?

Hina understood. "I'll have one of the men help you out there. Come now; let's get you to the main deck."

Managing to make it to the main deck was a relief. One that was short-lived when she saw that Hina had recruited none other than Rick Rodgers to take her to the bow.

He said nothing to her, just gave a polite nod and took her by the arm; Hina had apparently already filled him in.

"I can try to make it there myself. You don't have to help me." She didn't want to be a bother and his nearness was making her stomach clench even harder.

He looked at her with an unfathomable expression, the brilliant blue of his eyes made her long to sink into their depths and drown. Wait, that wasn't right. Her nausea was affecting her head.

"You'd be lucky to make it halfway there. The motion will be getting worse as we get out to sea and you're already pretty green."

It was the truth. She was feeling more and more ill with each passing minute in his presence. Best to get this over with.

"Lead on then."

He kept his hand on her arm; a firm, but steady support in case she needed it. Head spinning, she listed further into him with every step. By the time they arrived at the ladder that led up to the bow deck, she was using all of her self-control to keep her stomach contents to herself. He indicated the ladder; she stared at him wild eyed and desperate.

"You can do it. I'll be right behind you." Confidence in his voice spurred her on to try. It was only a few rungs, but she was trembling when she wrested herself to the top.

A large hand steadied her in the small of her back. His strength burned through her skin as he guided her to a railing. Clutching at the side, she found it less reassuring than his hand had been. She really was losing it when she felt safer with him touching her than clinging to solid metal.

"Look at the horizon."

Hina might think of him as outgoing, but Kate had only seen the taciturn side of him. However, his advice was sound because when she lifted her eyes to the joining of the sky and the ocean, she did start to feel better.

"Are you chewing the leaves?"

Honestly she'd forgotten about them. Reaching into her pocket, she placed a few of the dry and bitter greens into her mouth. Managing not to retch or spit them out was a small victory.

"Don't swallow them. Just keep chewing on them, and if you need to you can spit over the side of the rail."

He started to move away and she quivered. Being alone out here was far worse than having him nearby.

"Where are you going?"

"Not far. I'm just going to get my notebook and pen."

True to his word, he returned in less than a minute. He sat down with his back against the large, smooth column that rose up to form the crane. Kate glanced at him periodically between long stares at the horizon. Her stomach was settling and she began to take more of an interest in her surroundings.

There was a massive anchor, now resting next to the chain drive that let it run out and brought it back in at the very front. There was a raised platform next to it, upon which rested a lifeboat. The crane column made up the last of the bow, with ladders to either side to get down to the main deck and holds.

"So you sit up here a lot?" Biting her lip, she told herself she wasn't really _interested_ in him—she was just making polite conversation. She ignored the voice in her head that sang out she was a liar.

"Quite a bit of the time, when I'm off duty."

"Hina said you like to write. And you keep a notebook and pen up here, so you must write a lot."

He looked up, a smirk on his face and a speculative gleam in his eye that made her wish immediately that she'd kept her mouth shut.

"I do write quite a bit. You seem awfully curious about what I do for a woman who slapped me just yesterday."

She flushed. "Well, you did paw my chest."

"I was keeping you upright." The sardonic twang in his voice made her blush deepen.

"I'm pretty sure you could have used another leverage point to save me from falling. Even though it was your fault I was knocked over in the first place."

"We're going to have to agree to disagree on that count."

Her nostrils flared at his voice, smug and sure.

"I reacted on pure instinct; I had no idea you were there. You were lucky I was able to grab ahold of anything. Luckily for both of us you have considerable…assets…that allowed me to save you. They're just the right size, by the way. Lifesavers, if you will."

She ground her teeth at the sight of his leer. The pompous ass seemed to think he'd done her a favor by molesting her chest!

"You know, I was just trying to make conversation. If I'd known my _assets_ were going to be discussed I would've never agreed to come out here in the first place. You may have Hina and Anapa fooled, but so far I've seen nothing more from you than boorish behavior. No wonder you're hiding in the South Pacific."

"What do you mean by that?" he growled, startling her with his sharp tone. She'd apparently hit a nerve.

"Nothing, except you clearly can't behave in civilized company. Do me a favor, stay away from me."

She stalked off to the ladder and stiffly clambered down as he shouted after her.

"No problem. I wouldn't want to disturb your delicate sensitivities with my oafish manners. Try someone else when you start to fall overboard again."

Stomping back across the main deck, she forgot all about her seasickness. The only thing burning in her mind was his outrageous behavior and her vow to avoid him as much as possible. Rick Rodgers was nothing but trouble.


	7. Chapter 7: A Snake Slithers Aboard

**This chapter is dedicated to theKLF. A consistent voice of support on twitter and here on fanfiction, she agreed to read a few chapters of this story when I was freaking out about something random. I love getting good reviews from readers; it is after all the only currency we deal in here in the world of fanfic. But to get good reviews from an author as talented as she is? That's really gratifying. Thank you, my friend.**

* * *

**November 1999**

Kate stalked back to her tiny cabin, intent on retrieving the only object she'd brought with her besides clothes. Her heart was racing and she longed to turn back and go hit the bastard, but he was so much bigger. Maybe once she became a cop she'd learn how to take care of jerks like Rick Rodgers, but for now she needed to calm down. And nothing helped as much as diving back into the pages of her favorite book.

Just touching it brought her blood pressure down to the normal range. Tattered, spine long broken, it had seen better days. Reading pages long memorized was like chatting with a good friend. She sank down onto the bed, thumbing to one of her favorite passages when her stomach clenched again. The cabin was stuffy; reading in such conditions was apt to bring on a relapse of the seasickness.

Toting her book along, she wandered back down the stairs to the saloon. It had been empty when she'd first seen it, during her tour with Hina. Now there were two crewmen and the cook, Tane, sitting at a table playing a dice game of sorts.

Looking up when she entered they all stood and welcomed her.

"_Maeva, _welcome. I'm Arenui. This is Tamahere and Tane. Welcome to the _Iriata_. Please, let us know if there is anything you need."

Kate was charmed by the greeting. She remembered Hina's descriptions of the crew earlier. Tamahere and Tane were both quite young, but friendly. At least most of the crew knew how to be agreeable to guests.

"Thank you so much. I was just planning to do some reading."

"Then I hope we don't disturb you. Tane has placed some water and Rotui fruit juices on the counter if you need refreshments."

Kate looked around the saloon. Like the boat and its owners, it showed its age. Yet, it was also very comfortable looking. The main entry faced the back of the boat. There were two tables set up on one side: one sat six people, the other four. The latter was currently occupied by the men playing their game. The tables themselves were battered and everything was fixed in place—necessary for life on a ship.

Another door in the wall opposite to the entrance led to the galley that was Tane's domain. There was a counter on half the wall here that was used as a sideboard. This was where the drinks were set out.

The rest of the room had various armchairs, and even a couple of recliners grouped in a rough circle. There was seating for six; not quite enough for everyone on the ship, but she supposed there was always at least one person on duty. A third door in the side wall led to the crew's room. There were bunks for them all and a small toilet room; Hina had shown her the accommodations briefly on their tour earlier.

She chose to skip the drinks for now; not yet certain her stomach was settled. She picked a comfortable looking armchair and let out a sigh as she read, tuning out the chatter of the men as they teased and harassed each other over their game.

Forty minutes later, a shadow fell over her. Looking up she saw that Tamahere was standing in front of her, fidgeting in place.

"I'm sorry, Miss Kate, to interrupt. We are approaching Mo'orea and I thought you might like to see it."

"Oh, yes. Thank you. Where should I go?"

"Either up to the bridge or to the bow. It is a beautiful island with much to see."

Kate would've preferred to be in the open air, but the bow was where she'd left the insufferable Rick Rodgers. She was torn.

"Wouldn't I be in the way if I were in the bow?"

"Not at all. I'll be up there as we approach Vai'are. I'll let you know if you need to move."

If Tamahere was with her, there was little chance that Mr. Rodgers would bother her. Mind made up, she ran up to her cabin to return her book before making her way to the bow. She let out a huge breath when she found herself alone. Leaning on the rail, she drank in the emerald isle in front of her.

Tamahere was right; Mo'orea was magnificent. It was surrounded by a reef system and had rocky spires reaching out of the sea. As she gazed at the beautiful island, she felt rather than heard someone approaching. Without even looking she knew who it was. She tensed, ready for battle once again.

"The tallest peak is called Mount Tohi'e'a, near the center. You can see it from Tahiti," he said. His voice was neutral; a tour guide relaying information, nothing more.

"It's too bad you won't see either of the two main bays. Opunohu Bay and Cook's Bay are both on the northern side. If you look at a map or a picture from overhead, Mo'orea looks a bit like a heart, with those bays as its openings. But we are going to Vai'are, which is on the eastern side of the island."

She _did_ find the information interesting. His motivation in telling her was the mystery here.

"James Michener said Mo'orea was 'a monument to the prodigal beauty of nature', and based the mythical Bali Ha'i on it. And none other than Arthur Frommer said it was the most beautiful island in the world," he trailed off. Tour guide time had come to an end, apparently.

She turned halfway, stiff and unwelcoming.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I just thought you might like to know. And to prove I do have some manners." He smiled in a disarming way, and she had a sudden flash of understanding about what he was trying to do.

"Look, just to be clear, I'm here for the experience of the islands. I have no interest in you. I'm not looking for an island fling."

"I'm… flattered? However, I'm not trying to get in your pants, as pleasant as that might be. I'm here to work. And part of that job on this trip is to be nice to the passengers. Of which you are one. This is me being nice to you. So, I'll leave you on that note."

She turned back to the view, relaxing her tense muscles after encountering the friendlier version of Rick Rodgers who'd promised to leave her alone. The relief was momentary as his low voice again rumbled through the air.

"One more piece of advice."

She jerked back around.

"What?" she snapped.

He smirked at her reaction. "Watch the reef area closely; there's usually a ton of dolphins swimming around them."

He turned and sauntered off; once more she was left standing with her mouth open. He was so maddening. One minute employing inappropriate double entendres then the next minute he was actually being nice. Shaking her head clear of him, she turned back to the wonderful view. When she saw the reef encircling the island she found herself following his advice.

Damned if she didn't see a pod of dolphins, just as he'd predicted.

* * *

Kate remained in the bow after they docked in Vai'are, watching as the men swung into action to load the last of the cargo. It was an interesting process: they used the crane to swing the pallets from the dock to the open hold, then the men in the hold (Rodgers and Tamahere) secured it down.

It took about thirty minutes for everything to be moved and stowed away. The two men climbed out of the hold, both quite a bit dustier than when they'd gone in. The first mate, Ari'i, gave them some more directions, which she couldn't hear. They both disappeared down the gangway, while Ari'i went back up to the bridge.

She saw them staggering up the gangway a few minutes later, both burdened with several heavy trunks. Following them was a very handsome man who appeared to be in his thirties. He was small to average height, with dirty blond hair that was carefully coiffed. He was dressed casually in khakis and a white polo shirt, and was barking out directions to the men in French. Kate decided he must be the other passenger.

She watched as the three men disappeared to the stern; two struggling under the weight of the luggage, while the third continued to harangue them as they went. After they disappeared, her attention was drawn back to the village of Vai'are. She watched as the high speed catamaran that whisked passengers back and forth from Papeete came flying in. It docked, disgorging the happy tourists that were taking advantage of the close proximity of Mo'orea to Tahiti.

About ten minutes later she heard some shouting from the stern. It was Ari'i. He was directing the other crewmen as they prepared to cast off. Tamahere climbed up to the bow and gave her a nod as he went about his business. They were underway within minutes, headed back into the open ocean.

"What did you think of Mo'orea, Miss Kate?"

"It looked beautiful. I wish I could have spent some time there, but I know we were in a hurry to get going."

"Yes, Monsieur Grollet, our new passenger, seems to be in a rush over everything."

Tamahere was looking down at the main deck as he spoke. She followed his eyes and saw that their new passenger was now being led from cargo hatch to cargo hatch. At each one, Arenui and Rick would open the hatch that covered the hold so that Mr. Grollet could see inside. Every time the man found some fault and would gesticulate wildly and emphatically until Rick disappeared down the ladder. She couldn't see what he did, but it would appease their passenger until they reached the next hold.

Tamahere gave a snort. "I should go help. But I'm not sure I want to be around this guy much. Too bad for Arenui and Hopo that they got stuck showing him the cargo holds."

The men below them had now reached the cargo hold with the chickens. If Monsieur Grollet had been upset by the previous cargo hatches, he was apoplectic over the chickens. Tamahere and Kate watched as Rick disappeared into the hold while Arenui and the Frenchman argued. Well, it appeared that Arenui listened, while the other man berated him.

"Poor Hopo. I'm so glad I'm out of harm's way up here with you."

"What do you think he's mad about? How many possible ways can you stack chicken cages in a hold?"

"Who knows? All I know is the smell in that cramped area is indescribable. Hopo's going to be in a really bad mood. Can't blame him."

She nodded slowly. Dying to know more about the man she turned to Tamahere.

"Hina said that Anapa gave Mr. Rodgers a Polynesian name. Hopo? Does it have any particular meaning?"

Tamahere looked at her with a twinkle in his eye. "All _ma'ohi_, or Polynesian names, have significance. My name, Tamahere, means 'the loved child'. Anapa means 'the sea sparkling under the sun', and Hina means 'the great-granddaughter'."

"And Hopo?"

He gave a wicked grin before answering her. "Hopo means 'great white albatross.'"

Kate stared at him for a second before they both burst into laughter. Unfortunately, their mirth drew the attention of Arenui, who shouted at Tamahere to come help them.

Sighing, he gave her a mournful look. "I must bid you _nana_, or goodbye, Miss Kate. Arenui, 'the big wave', bids me to join them. Please be careful up here alone."

* * *

Kate wandered up to the second level of the superstructure about an hour later and saw Hina's workshop door was open. She approached and found Hina busy preparing a mixture of dried plants.

"Hina, may I be of help?"

"_E, _yes, of course. Sit, please." After Kate had taken a seat next to her, she continued. "This is a _noni_, which we use both for drinks and for medicines."

Kate watched and listened closely to Hina as she showed her how to prepare different plants for various conditions. Hina explained that Polynesian myths told of how plants, fruits and vegetables came from human bodies.

"For example, the 'uru,' or breadfruit. Its trunk came from the body of a man, branches and roots from his limbs, leaves from his hands, fruit from his head and the almond from his tongue. Due to the particular link with humans, the plants kept the shape of the organ from which they came from. Thus, each part of the plant is best used to cure the area of the body it came from." Hina pointed to some illustrations of a breadfruit tree in a book of the flora of Polynesia as she discussed the parts of the plant with Kate, before continuing.

"A disease is considered to be an alien fluid which introduces itself in the body of a person that broke a _tapu_, or a forbidden practice. This negative fluid is the source of an imbalance that the _tahu'a_, or priest, will have to cure. Once a cure is accomplished, both the mind and body are considered to be free of disease," she related. Kate was fascinated. It was a practice so rooted in the culture, and unlike anything she'd been exposed to in New York.

She spent the rest of the afternoon with Hina, soaking in as much as she could. It was an enthralling discussion, to be sure. As the light abruptly faded from the small window, Hina set her tools down.

"Ah, sunset in the South Pacific. It is quick here, due to the short distance to the equator. The sun's rays are more perpendicular, so dark falls quickly."

"Where are we going next?" They were to make another stop before Raivavae, but she wasn't clear where it was.

"We go to Tupua'i next. It's the most populated of the Austral islands and the administrative seat. Then we go to Raivavae. The destination of Monsieur Grollet, who you will meet at dinner. We will be in Tupua'i in about three days, if the weather holds."

"Why are we going to Tupua'i first?"

"I have some business there and Anapa is nervous that the cyclone building to the east may affect us. If it gets worse he will want to go around it and we may not get a chance to go back to Tupua'i anytime soon."

"Raivavae is quite beautiful?"

"It is one of the most beautiful and wildest islands in French Polynesia. I can't wait for you to see it. Now, let's put down our work for the night. Dinner is in about a half hour in the saloon. It won't be anything formal of course, but there is time if you wish to freshen up. _Mauruuru tiare_."

"_Mauruuru_?"

"It means thank you."

"And _tiare_?"

"Flower."

Smiling, Kate offered her thanks and then headed to her cabin for her bag before going to wash up in the head. While she had conflicting feelings about the other American on the ship, she was finding the Polynesian crew to be delightful.

* * *

Rick grumbled to himself. He'd been polite, though displeased, when he was perfunctorily ordered to carry the extremely heavy trunks of their new passenger up to his cabin. Rick had no idea what the man could have possibly packed to make them so heavy.

Then, just as he'd been ready to escape for a while and write (being off duty now that the ship was underway), he'd been caught again. Arenui had grabbed him, not wanting to be left alone with their odious guest. Not that he blamed Arenui; he probably would've done the same in his place. Still, it was annoying.

The man had wanted to check every cargo hold. Never mind that his precious cargo was mostly barrels of seeds and tools; items that were nearly impossible to damage. Every hold they opened, the man saw a problem. To the point that Rick began to have serious heartburn as they approached the chicken hold.

Sure enough, as they'd pulled back the netting, the man had gone apeshit. His rapid fire French was too fast for Rick to understand most of it, so he had been relegated to descending into the hold while Arenui tried to calm the guy down.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with how they'd secured the chickens. They'd hauled livestock before; this was _not_ his first chicken rodeo. Yet M. Grollet didn't want them stacked the way they had them. This meant Rick had to unhook each cage and reposition it. If they'd been heavier crates, it would've been impossible to do while underway; too dangerous with the ship moving. Alas, it _was _possible to do: therefore he did it. Luckily, he'd only moved about five of the forty when he saw Tamahere climbing down to help.

"Just in time," Rick smirked at him.

"Yeah, well, I was perfectly happy watching you do all the work from the bow. Until Arenui caught me laughing at you," retorted Tamahere.

"Serves you right. Now you and I have the pleasure of doing Monsieur Grollet's bidding."

"What's his problem? I saw he made you do something to every cargo hold."

"Want my opinion?" Rick asked as he grabbed another cage, "He's an asshole. And since he's an asshole, he can't help but spread his shit everywhere he goes."

That got Tamahere laughing so hard that he had trouble standing. Which earned them a rebuke from the men above, who thankfully couldn't hear their conversation over the loud squawking of the very unhappy chickens.

Two hours and forty furious chickens later, they were done. He was filthy once more. Angry chickens have diabolical means of getting even with people who are trying to reposition their cages.

He went up to the common room to wash and change. His shift would start in another few hours, right after dinner. He just wanted a nap at this point, so after he cleaned up he climbed into his bunk and was sound asleep within moments.

He woke up fifteen minutes before dinner time. He was starving, as lunch had been a hurried affair due to their arrival at Mo'orea. He hoped Tane really knew what he was doing in the kitchen.

After washing his face, he exited the bunkroom into the saloon. When he saw that he was one of the last to arrive, he wasn't surprised. However, seeing that Monsieur Grollet had already claimed a seat, and that it was right next to Kate made him clench his jaw and want to reach down and reposition Grollet like he'd been forced to do with the chickens earlier. He really didn't like the man—which explained his annoyance with him. It had nothing to do with Kate herself. She'd made it perfectly clear that she wanted nothing to do with him. And since he'd sworn off women and their complications that was just fine with him.

He took an open seat near Tamahere and Arenui at the smaller table. Ari'i was still on duty, waiting to be replaced by Rick. Anapa and Hina were sitting at the larger table with Kate and Grollet.

Tane had carried out some of the dishes already, and Rick had to admit they smelled wonderful. He poured himself a glass of juice and one of water; he'd found he had to drink a lot more than he was used to now that he spent so much time in the sun performing physical labor.

He nearly dropped a glass when the sniveling voice of his chicken nemesis slithered through the saloon.

"Monsieur Rodgers_, Capitaine_ Anapa tells me you are _américain_, just like the lovely Katherine here. Is this true?"

"I've never known Anapa to lie," was Rick's terse answer. He'd told only Anapa and Hina the full reasons why he was in Tahiti; the other crewmen had no idea who he really was. He had absolutely no desire to share his story with this obnoxious man.

"Ah, that seems highly unusual, does it not? You have been working on this ship for 10 months, no?"

Rick nodded again. Fortunately, Tane came out with the rest of the meal and Grollet was prevented from asking more probing questions while everyone filled their plates. There was a variety of fresh fruits, as usual, and papaya chicken. For dessert Tane had prepared a _faraoa coco_, or coconut bread.

As Rick neared the end of his meal, he couldn't help but notice how much attention M. Grollet was paying to Kate. She seemed to be somewhat receptive, in the sense she hadn't slapped him so far; clearly Grollet was more tolerable company to her than Rick.

Ari'i called down via the intercom to ask Anapa to come to the bridge. He was worried about some weather reports. Hina went with him, and a brief silence descended on the saloon. Rick was about to grab some more _faraoa_ for later, when he heard Grollet address him again.

"Monsieur Rodgers, you say you have been working here for ten months. Where in America are you from?"

Rick felt he had to answer. He had to be polite to the guests, though these questions were out of line, in his opinion.

"New York."

"Ah, the city or the state? You see, my dear, I have some knowledge of America as well." Grollet directed the last of his statement at Kate, who just nodded noncommittally.

"The city."

"And were you a crewman on a boat in New York?" Grollet's tone made it clear what he thought of that line of work. Rick felt the others next to him shifting in their seats. The man was insulting all of them, but seemed oblivious to that fact. Or, he just didn't care.

"No."

"And what is it that you did?"

"I was…self-employed." That was true, more or less.

"You must not have been very successful, if you ended up on the other side of the world on an old cargo ship." Grollet tittered, clearly amused by his own wit.

Rick's lips flattened and he glared at the other man, who was too busy staring at Kate to notice. Nothing would be more satisfying than putting the impertinent man in his place, but it'd just cause more problems in the end.

"I guess not. If you'll excuse me?"

He grabbed his bread and climbed up to the bridge. His shift wasn't due to start for another half hour, but he preferred the company on the bridge to that in the saloon.

* * *

Biting her bottom lip, Kate watched Rick leave. Her seat next to Monsieur Grollet made her feel complicit in the thinly veiled verbal attacks. Which was ridiculous; she didn't even like the American sailor.

"He seems to have a thin skin. Makes me wonder why he is hiding in the South Pacific, eh?" sniveled the man at her side.

"Monsieur Grollet, need I remind you that I am also from New York _and_ currently here in the South Pacific? I am not hiding from anything. Why do you think he must be?"

"Ah, my darling Katherine, please, call me Henri. We have only just met, but I feel that I have known you for some time. And I certainly want us to know each other far, far better. As for Monsieur Rodgers, well, it is an entirely different scenario, no? You are here for vacation and will unfortunately soon return. Yet, he has been here nearly a year and is working as a junior crewman on a cargo ship. I wonder, is he running from the law? Or an unsavory relationship?"

"I think, whatever it is, it's none of my business and none of yours, either. If he wanted us to know, he would've told us. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to lie down for a while."

As she walked away, she missed entirely the speculative gleam in Henri's eyes. He hated mysteries, and the American sailor presented him with the only mystery he was likely to find on this voyage. He'd figure him out sooner or later.

* * *

**Thoughts are greatly appreciated. Thank you to all reviewers.**


	8. Chapter 8: Little Things that Matter

**This chapter is dedicated to evitascarlett. Though I do not know her personally, it was while I was reading her incredible A/U story, Apologize, that I realized how important dialogue could be. I found myself re-thinking how I wrote scenes and making an effort to include the interactions between characters as direct lines and not just a description. It is amazing how much I've learned by reading the works of great authors, and this is one example.**

* * *

**November 1999**

Rick's heart sped up when he saw the concerned faces on the bridge.

"What's going on?"

Anapa looked up, giving him a tight grin.

"It's gonna get interesting, Hopo. That cyclone is moving the wrong way."

Last Rick had seen the storm was plotting well south and east of where they were headed. It now was headed further north, which'd eventually impact them. The outer bands would definitely stir things up.

"The way to Tupua'i is still clear," Anapa intoned as they all stared at the weather plot. "It'll be the approach to Raivavae that'll be interesting. But we're going to get some bigger waves and rain bands. We'll need to make sure everything is battened down tomorrow when we get closer to the storm."

Rick nodded. Nothing would happen tonight; they were still too far away. But tomorrow would be busy. You could never be too careful on a ship.

"Ok, Hopo. You're on, and then Arenui will take over. Call if you hear about any major shifts in the storm."

Anapa and Hina took their leave while Ari'i remade the schedule for tomorrow. They'd all take shorter shifts the next day so they could have crews checking from bow to stern that everything was tight.

Rick was finally alone ten minutes later. He gave a deep sigh as he settled down behind the wheel. He loved taking night shifts. Loved being by himself, with only the dim glow of the instrument lights to keep him company. Looking out on the innumerable shimmering stars strewn across the black sky, he'd reflect on his day. Often, he came up with new plot points or scenes for his writing. Sometimes, he just emptied his mind and enjoyed the feeling of being one with the ship.

Tonight though, all he thought about the coming storm. Storms in the Atlantic Ocean were called hurricanes; the same type of storm was a cyclone in the South Pacific. There weren't as many in the South Pacific as there were in the Atlantic, but they could be just as dangerous and destructive. He'd been in rough weather with the ship, but never a cyclone.

His shift would last until 2 am; one of the other guys would bring him some coffee before they went to bed. He'd be off until eight am as another took the last shift. The next day would be spent weather proofing everything as best they could. Tapping his foot, he shook his head; they'd have to go back in the hold with the chickens. With heavy weather moving in, the simple net over the hold wouldn't suffice. The way Henri Grollet had made them restack them today wouldn't allow a rigid cover, so they would be forced to change them for the third time.

* * *

Kate awoke early, per habit. She could hear voices in the background, but they were too indistinct for her to understand anything. Not one to lie around, she got up after a few minutes and was happy to find the shower empty. Finishing her morning routine, she headed down to the saloon and found it completely empty except for coffee, bottled water, and some breakfast foods on the counter.

Grabbing a plate, she marveled that everyone else seemed to have eaten already, despite what she thought was an early time of seven in the morning. She'd just taken her last bite when Rick walked in.

"Morning." He glanced over at her before moving to the sideboard and grabbing a plate and coffee for himself.

"Good morning."

Would he sit with her? It would be awkward if he did, but even more awkward if he didn't. Yet, she was seated at the table where Grollet had launched his attack last night. That was the only reason she even cared; she carried some guilt for having remained quiet. That explained why she was so on edge around him this morning. Hyperaware. He was wearing the typical uniform for the ship: shorts and a t-shirt. A very nicely fitting t-shirt. Not that she noticed in particular.

It really showed off his impressive upper body. His shoulders in particular were so well developed…

"How is your sea sickness?" He put his plate down opposite of her. Ok, so same table then. And he was talking to her.

"All gone. The leaves that Hina gave me worked perfectly."

He grunted, eyes fixed on his plate as he shoveled food in his mouth. "Well, you might want to stock up."

"Why?" Watching him eat might bring back some of the nausea. He acted like a Neanderthal. He'd have caused a scandal in New York, eating like a pig at a trough. No wonder he was crewing on a ship far from home.

He looked up after some more forkfuls. "We're gonna be hitting the outer bands of the cyclone to the south later today. Heavy weather means heavy waves. Make sure everything is locked down in your cabin, and once we start hitting big ones stick to the stern. The bow becomes really dangerous."

She nodded; she'd heard them discussing the cyclone a bit the night before, when everyone was hanging in the saloon after dinner. No one seemed too concerned, particularly Grollet. He'd declared the cyclone too far south to impact them.

"Thanks for the advice."

He shrugged, and scraped his plate. She held her breath, afraid he might start licking it. "No problem. Whole crew working hard, battening down everything. Hina may need your help getting the workshop squared away, if you don't mind."

"No, it's no problem. I spent the afternoon with her yesterday just learning. It's really interesting."

"She and Anapa are living treasures."

"I agree." There was a small silence. It was the most agreeable conversation they'd ever had, if she ignored his table manners. She hated to ruin the moment, but she needed to apologize to him.

"I'm sorry about last night."

He looked at her sharply. "Why are you sorry? You weren't the one talking out of turn."

True. Still, she'd sat there. "No, you're right. I just felt it was inappropriate. I should have said something."

He speared her with those blue eyes. Right now they looked stormy. "I can take care of myself. Nothing that ill-mannered, egotistical, fool of a man could say bothers me."

No, except that he was upset enough to call Grollet an ill-mannered, egotistical, fool. But did it bother him because of the nature of the inquiries? Or because of the way they were asked?

"Well, either way I'm sorry I didn't say something. I didn't mean to imply you couldn't take care of yourself."

"Yeah, well I'm a big boy. I've run in to a few Grollets in my time." He stood, draining the last of his coffee in a gulp. "Well, I have to go check in with Ari'i. See you later."

He walked out the door, leaving her alone again. Now the questions was whether she felt better after apologizing to him. She had no answer by the time she left the saloon.

* * *

Kate spent the rest of the morning with Hina. The seas were still calm, so they talked for a while about plants and preparations. Henri found them in the workshop after she'd been there about two hours.

"Bonjour, Mesdames. How are you this fine morning?"

Kate glanced at him, still bothered by the way he'd treated Rick the prior evening.

"We are well so far, Monsieur Grollet. I trust you slept well?" Hina was, as usual, courteous and polite.

"_Très bien, merci_. I'd hoped to join you for breakfast Mademoiselle Kate. Alas, how great was my pain when I discovered you'd eaten well before. You must alleviate my misery and agree to lunch with me today."

Kate had to laugh at his foolish antics. He was so ridiculous, batting his eyes in an exaggerated manner and pretending he was truly hurt.

"If Hina has finished with me for lunch, then I'm sure I'll see you in the saloon along with everyone else."

"Ah, then I must implore our wonderful hostess that she be sure to allow you some sustenance and not work you to death today."

"No fear of that Monsieur Grollet. We're almost finished with lessons and then we just need to put everything up before the weather worsens this afternoon."

"Ahh, this cyclone I've been hearing so much about? I'm sure it was well to the south. There is nothing to be alarmed about, _assurément_."

"Well, storms do change course. My husband tells me we'll be fine, but what's the harm in being prepared?"

Henri bowed to her at that point and took his leave. Kate stayed with Hina until nearly noon. Most of the workshop was already squared away, but Hina wanted to secure some of the heavier stones and mortars she used to make some of her concoctions. Once they were finished, Kate excused herself to freshen up.

The ship was rolling deeper between the waves. It wasn't necessarily unpleasant, but a noticeable change from the flatter sea the day before. After she washed up, she made her way carefully down the stairs and stood on the narrow rear deck that ran around the superstructure. She could see the waves were larger and more chaotic. It was invigorating in some ways, though she couldn't imagine what it might be like if they were even doubled in size.

When she walked into the saloon, only Henri was present. He stood upon catching sight of her and bowed.

"Ah, Katherine. I am humbled to be graced by your presence."

She shook her head. He was so full of false modesty, but it was amusing.

"Well, since this is where we have lunch, it shouldn't be a surprise that my presence would be found in the saloon during lunchtime."

"Beautiful and witty. A rare combination. Please, allow me." He took her hand and led her to a seat, next to his. Glancing at the sideboard she saw that Tane was not quite ready with the meal yet.

As soon as they were seated he started regaling her with a series of humorous, though slightly ridiculous, stories about his life and that of his cousin who lived on Raivavae. Though born in France, he'd lived in Tahiti for the majority of his life. He recounted tale after tale of some of the escapades that he and his cousin had gotten into. She couldn't help but laugh at most of them; many were so improbable that she was sure he was dramatizing to try and impress her. He paid close attention to her, even as the saloon slowly filled up with the rest of the crew.

She wasn't looking at the door, but she knew the minute _he_ walked in. Her awareness of him was ludicrous; he hadn't shown any interest in her as a woman besides leering at her boobs. She couldn't pretend it was guilt, not after having apologized to him. Perhaps because he was the only other American? She snuck a look at him at her first opportunity. He was staring at her, but as soon as he saw her looking he deliberately turned and walked to the small table. She glared at his back. The man was rude. She had no idea why her heart sank at the same time.

* * *

Rick spent the morning working to secure everything, partnered with Tamahere. The younger man was quick with a joke and was a hard worker. He was Rick's best friend on the ship, though he like all of his crewmates. Their companionship had made it easy for him to keep working on the ship long after he'd had more than enough knowledge to make Derrick Storm a successful character.

They saved the chickens for last, neither looking forward to rearranging the damn birds yet again. In hindsight, that was a mistake. As the morning passed, the waves started picking up and reordering the cages was more challenging than it would've been without the extra swell. The chickens appeared to remember them, and had plotted together to peck, screech and shit on them as often as possible. It was, all in all, a _very_ unpleasant experience.

Finishing up before lunch was fortunate. He was due for his shift at the helm at five today; he'd have a few hours to rest, which was a bonus. The increasing roll to the ship promised that his normally easy, undemanding helm time would require him to be on his toes.

He raced Tamahere to the shower off their bunkroom. And lost. Thus, he was the last person to the saloon for lunch. When he finally walked in, his eyes were immediately drawn to _her_. She was sitting next to the greasy Grollet, laughing at something the pig had told her.

She was so beautiful. He was stupid to try and deny it. She had a quality to her that set her apart from any woman he'd ever met. She was intelligent, beautiful, sure, but there was also a fragility or brittleness underlying it all. He could see flashes of pain in her eyes at times, and it drew him to her. As a story teller, he loved delving into a character's background. It gave voice to their motivation, even if he never ended up writing about it. Kate had to have a fascinating story to tell. He just didn't know if she would ever deign to share it with _him_.

She looked over at him and he startled. She'd caught him staring at her. Wincing, he made an abrupt turn and walked to the smaller table. Tamahere was already seated and soon they were joined by Ari'i, who'd been pouring himself a drink.

"Monsieur Rodgers, I see you are no worse for the wear after all the work I hear the crew's been doing today," Grollet's condescending voice filled a brief silence in the busy saloon.

Rick stifled a groan. The one person he'd wanted to avoid, of course, had to address him by name. Rick almost got up and walked out. However, he was hungry and whatever Tane was doing in the galley smelled heavenly.

"Fortunately I had time to shower prior to lunch. I'm afraid my state after we finished our labors wouldn't have been pleasant in the enclosed room of the saloon."

"Ah, I understand. And just what was it you were doing this morning?"

"We had to re-secure the cargo to make sure it won't shift with the heavy seas we're starting to encounter. Then we had to rearrange the chickens in order to put a heavy cover over their hatch."

"_Oui_, my poor _poulets_. I certainly hope you have stacked them carefully. You have no idea the trouble I had to go to, in order to get them placed properly." The last sentence he directed at Kate, who didn't respond in any way. "If you want something done correctly, _mon ami_, you must do it yourself."

"Strange, I don't remember him being down in the hold with us, Hopo," whispered Tamahere. Rick snorted, trying not to laugh. Unfortunately, his snort brought Grollet's attention even more firmly upon him. The other man had just opened his mouth to retort when Kate distracted him by asking a question that Rick couldn't hear. The odious man glared a moment longer at him, then physically turned his back to him and gave Kate his undivided attention. The meaning was clear, even without any words.

Rick gave a tip of his head to the chef when Tane finally brought out the rest of the meal. He ate with a purpose, wanting to get to his bunk. He finished before anyone else and excused himself. For some reason, despite his bone weary physical exhaustion, sleep was a long time coming.

* * *

Kate went back to her cabin, intending to grab her book and return to the saloon. Her room felt like a coffin tossed about in the pitch and roll of the ship. She was more comfortable in the saloon with others about to distract her.

She'd just turned around with book in hand when a small knock sounded on the frame of the door to her cabin and Henri Grollet let himself in. He closed the thick, wooden door to her cabin firmly. Too surprised to say anything, Kate simply gaped at him. The man was bold, that was apparent.

"Ah, Mademoiselle Katherine, please forgive the intrusion. I was hoping you would join me this afternoon. I find that I am quite at a loss as to spend my time doing. With the exception of yourself, and you are indeed exceptional, there is very little to offer a man of my intellect and rare tastes on board this," he waved an arm, sneering at the boat. "This is not surprising, but of course. It is a simple cargo ship after all, and I find myself realizing that I had somehow expected more from a ship with such an exalted Capitaine. Nonetheless, they are sailors, are they not? They must live on and with the sea. Interests in other matters would not be necessary."

Kate wanted nothing more than to stomp on his foot; the man's temerity was mindboggling. Taking a deep breath, she defended her friends. "I think Anapa and Hina are lovely. Hina has already taught me several things about useful plants and medicines. Perhaps it is not that they are too simple for you, but that you do not open yourself up to what they have to say, Monsieur Grollet."

"Please, Katherine, it is Henri. We are now friends, are we not? Perhaps you are right. However, the fact remains that most of the crew are now either on duty or sleeping before their duty. We are left to entertain each other, _oui_?"

She flushed at his blatant ogling, and her nails dug into her palms. His idea of entertainment clearly involved private accommodations and a willing partner. Which she was not. Her priority was to escape the close quarters and to join the others in the common space. Thinking furiously, she came up with a plan that, sadly, didn't involve a physical altercation.

"Well, Henri, that is an interesting suggestion," she said in a low, husky voice. "However, before we discuss it further, I must beg you to excuse me. I need to visit the head before we decide just how to keep each other entertained for the afternoon."

Henri acquiesced immediately. He was too self-absorbed to notice that she took her book with her. Kate had nothing of value with her, so she didn't think twice about leaving the unctuous man in her cabin alone. She ran down the stairs and only after gaining a chair in the sanctuary of the saloon did her pounding heart start to calm.

She spent the rest of the afternoon reading, with crew passing through periodically, and Tane next door in the kitchen. Henri did not reappear until dinner time and she was able to avoid sitting next to him by grabbing a seat next to Hina and Ari'i.

After dinner, she planned to spend the hours before bedtime in Hina's company. Lack of opportunity would soon set her presumptive fellow passenger onto another amusement.

She hoped.

She wouldn't notice until it was far too late that the key to her cabin, left behind when she fled Grollet, was missing.

It was an oversight that would alter the course of her entire life.

* * *

Rick reported to the bridge as expected, just before five. Due to their shorter shifts, he was taking over right before dinner. Normally, he hated the dinner shift: he wouldn't eat until after everyone else and would have to wait for one of the other crew to bring him his meal. Tonight, it was a blessing. He'd not sit through another meal with Henri Grollet if he could help it.

Greeting Arenui, who was ending a shift, the two men reviewed the movement of the storm. The cyclone had veered east; their path to Tupua'i looked good. There were some impressive bands spinning off, which they would run into. Cyclones in the Southern Hemisphere rotated in a clockwise rotation.

Anapa himself brought the meal two hours later. He'd wanted to check the storm and to check that Rick was handling things properly. All of the other crew had been in worse weather together. Rick was still green, even with ten months under his belt. Fortunately, he was a quick study and wasn't afraid to ask questions.

A companionable silence enveloped them until Anapa shifted in his seat and addressed him.

"Hopo, there's something about this storm that I just don't like."

Rick peered at him; Anapa's face was troubled. "It seems to be moving away. I think we'll be ok for Tupua'i."

Anapa pursed his lips, twisting them before answering, "That's just the thing. I think it wants us to believe it's moving away. Storms are like women. Fickle and unpredictable."

Rick laughed. "Better not let that little nugget slip to Hina."

"Bah, she'd say the same thing." The older man stood, stretching his wiry frame before turning to go. "Call me if you need something."

"I will, Anapa. Go rest."

Rick was left alone again. The waves were getting larger, but nothing had happened that made him nervous. Keeping an eye on the weather reports, he settled down and enjoyed the feeling of taking on Mother Nature.

By nine in the evening, the waves were starting to slam them around and they began to be hit by rain off and on. The _Iriata_ remained responsive to his touch; he wasn't worried. Feet pounding up the stairs made him frown; chest tight he stared at the door. Tamahere wasn't due to relieve him until ten.

He jumped when Tamahere burst onto the bridge, eyes wild with fear.

"What's going on?" Rick jumped out of his chair and grabbed his friend by the shoulders. Gasping, Tamahere's words tumbled out.

"Hopo, Hina needs you. _Vitiviti_, quickly! It's Anapa."


	9. Chapter 9: The Consequences of Inaction

**This chapter is dedicated to Lord of Kavaca. His stories were some of the first to catch my eye when I first joined fanfiction. I loved his take on different Castle moments and really enjoyed his A/U fics. When I first decided to write this fic, I PM'd him to ask permission. I feared some would think this was derivative of his most excellent story, Solid Ground. Obviously, it is not based on that fic, and the two differ in nearly all ways, save one: Rick and Kate are stranded. That PM was way back in January, which tells you how long I've been working on this story. His response was an enthusiastic "go for it." Thank you, sir, for all of your incredible stories and for being so kind to this beginning author.**

* * *

**November 1999**

Turning control of the ship over to Tamahere, Rick stormed down to the second level. Mass chaos greeted him. Ari'i, Arenui and Tane had Grollet boxed into a corner at the far end of the hall. Kate was behind them, pulling at their arms—either trying to get to Grollet or trying to hold his crewmates back. They were all shouting at once and the hallway echoes incoherently with their anger. The situation smelled of violence and his stomach dropped. Anapa should've been here, calming people down and sorting it out. Neither he nor Hina were to be seen.

Rick strode forward; no one had noticed him.

"What's going on? What's happened?" he barked. The shouting died away.

Ari'i turned his head towards him and grimaced. "Anapa is injured thanks to this _mea_," he spit out. Turning back toward Grollet, he yelled, "How many times did we tell you the storm was coming? You saw us securing everything this morning!"

"It's so far away, I didn't think it was a big deal. _Je suis désolé," _ the little worm whined.

"Yeah, well sorry isn't going to help Anapa, is it?" Arenui snarled.

"Where are Anapa and Hina?" Rick would get the details later; right now he had to see his Captain with his own eyes.

Arenui pointed to their cabin. Rick knocked and without waiting for a response walked in. The sight of Anapa lying on his bed in agony stopped him short. His eyes were closed and his breathing rapid and harsh in the otherwise still air. A quick glance was all it took to see the reason for his pain: his right foot lay at an unnatural angle to his leg.

Rushing to the bed, Rick knelt next to him.

"Anapa, what happened? Where is Hina?"

Anapa cracked his eyes open. "Workshop. Ship ok?"

"Yes, Tamahere has her in hand. What can I do?"

Just then Hina walked in, arms full of supplies. She looked anxious, but was otherwise in full control.

"Hopo, I need your help. We need to reduce the fracture and get it splinted."

Rick nodded; he'd helped her do the same thing a handful of times. First she gave Anapa some painkillers. Once they had taken effect, Hina nodded to Rick. It was time.

He took a firm grasp of Anapa's leg above the break. Hina then pulled and manipulated the foot below until she was satisfied with the alignment. Anapa screamed and writhed in pain despite whatever Hina had given him. Rick felt the screams tearing at his heart, but he knew what they were doing was absolutely necessary. A glance at Hina told him it was even more difficult for her; his love and respect for her grew higher as he watched her take care of her husband.

Once the bones were back in alignment, Rick helped her splint them. It was a temporary measure until he could be fitted with something more rigid. That would have to wait until they reached Tupua'i.

After they finished, Hina gave Anapa some more of the painkilling concoction. Anapa drifted off to sleep; Rick gave Hina a hug, and left her to run up and check on Tamahere. He walked right past the others, who were still glaring at each other, without a word. Once he was reassured the ship was ok, he intended to get to the bottom of the story. There was no doubt the snake, Grollet, was involved.

Tamahere hadn't had any problems, thankfully. Their hurried change hadn't allowed time to review the course or the weather, so he'd slowed the ship considerably waiting for Rick to return. His first questions were, of course, about the captain, and he blew out a deep breath when Rick told him Anapa was sleeping.

The second deck was empty when Rick returned after finishing with Tamahere. He popped his head into the captain's cabin. Anapa remained asleep. Hina nodded at him; her face was less anxious than before.

"The others have gone down to the saloon. They were shouting at each other again and I didn't want it to disturb him. You should go down there and make sure things aren't getting out of hand."

"Can I get you anything first?"

"No, Hopo. I'm fine. Anapa is resting. We'll be at Tupua'i in two days. Go: make sure Ari'i has not lost his temper. You all look to Anapa as a father first, then a captain. But you aren't as hot tempered as some can be. We'll need a calm voice in this matter."

Calm was not an adjective he'd have applied to his mood ten minutes later. He'd entered the saloon and found Grollet seated at the big table, drinking coffee as if he were in a café. Ari'i and Arenui were silently glowering at him. They were sitting at the smaller table. Grollet would have to get past them if he tried to leave the saloon. Kate and Tane were sitting in two of the armchairs on the other side of the room. Both were watching the other three like referees in some demented game.

Rick walked to the center of the room and stood, back was to Kate and Tane. His only focus was the men at the tables.

"Someone tell me what happened. Why is our captain lying in his bunk with a broken leg, and what does _he_ have to do with it?" He gestured at Grollet.

"_I_ am not to blame here…I" sputtered the worm, before Rick's emphatic gesture shut him up.

"You'll get your chance to talk in a minute. Ari'i, what happened?"

Ari'i snarled, answering, "Anapa and I were talking in his room. I was going over the plans for tonight and tomorrow. With the storm expected to strengthen we were rechecking the maps."

Rick nodded; the first mate and captain met often, and with bad weather approaching it was no surprise that they would have done so today.

"I'd just left him and was going down the stairs to the bunkroom. I remember thinking we'd hit a pretty good wave, as I almost fell, and I started wondering how big the swells would be. Suddenly, there was a loud crash above me. I turned around and had just reached the second level when that…that man's… door opened." He pointed his chin and frowned at Grollet. "He was shouting, something about his things being destroyed. Anapa was already at his doorway, trying to figure things out. He went inside before I could even think. A second later the ship rolled hard leeward. Another big wave. There was another crash and I heard Anapa shout out in pain. I ran to the door and found him on the floor of the cabin, with his right leg pinned under a heavy chest. It hadn't been secured, so when Anapa went in there and the ship rolled…well, he didn't have a chance."

Rarely was Rick rendered speechless; for it to happen a second time in a few days was remarkable. Something so stupid, so easily preventable. And now they had to deal not only with the weather, but also the fact that their captain was gravely injured. All eyes turned back to Grollet, who was mulishly drinking his coffee.

"Why?" It was the only question Rick could think to ask. Grollet sat, hunched over his cup for a second before looking up at him, eyes flashing with anger and face set in an arrogant sneer.

"Why what?"

"Why didn't you secure your stuff? You saw us doing it for everything else. I'm sure you were told to do it. Why can't you follow one simple order?"

"First of all, I am not some simple crewman to be bossed around. _Oui_, you re-secured the cargo. It is heavy, and needs reinforcement. My personal luggage is of no concern. Besides, I thought the storm was to the south. It shouldn't have affected the ship this much. It must be the fault of this itty, bitty boat that we are tossed around so much. I should've reserved something larger."

Rick took a deep breath as his eyes clouded over and adrenaline flooded his veins. His pulse pounded in his ears as he was forced to listen to Grollet cavalierly dismiss simple, common sense. The lack of concern for anyone besides himself was horrifying. Thrusting his clenched fists in his pockets before he swung at the imbecile, he spit out, "Yes, I feel safe in saying that we all wish you'd taken another ship. But it's too late now. The crew's going to have a meeting. Return to your cabins." He turned, including Kate in the order.

Grollet would not give in easily. "And just who are you to give me orders? You are nothing and no one. Nothing but the least important crewman on a ratty cargo ship."

Ari'i stood. "Well, I'm now in charge, given that your actions have taken the captain of this ship out of commission. Let me give you some orders: go to your cabin. Now." Such was the command and the anger behind it, Grollet gave no further argument. He stalked out.

* * *

Kate had remained seated, not sure where this situation was headed. Horrified at what had happened, followed by nervous by the potential for further injuries. The other men had been furious with their unpopular passenger. Not that she blamed them. His actions, or lack of action, were reprehensible. They'd responded to Rick when he'd entered; followed his lead. He might be the least senior of the crew, but he had their respect.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Henri clomped out. Rick faced her, no trace of the arrogant smirk on his visage that he'd worn when they argued previously.

"Kate, go to your cabin. We need to discuss what we're going to do as a crew."

Her look of protest must have shown on her face as before she could voice it he continued, "Please. Go check on Hina. She seems to be bearing up well, but I'm sure she'd appreciate the support."

With no real basis to argue—she wasn't part of the crew, not really—she stood without speaking and left. There was nothing she could offer to fix things, but she could provide help and support to Hina. Her legs jerked and she almost jumped in the air when she heard multiple feet tromping up the stairs behind her. Had Rick misinterpreted her silence was planning a confrontation? Or were they coming for Grollet anyway?

But they passed the second floor landing. There was only one place left: the bridge. She flushed, their motive for moving clear: to include _all_ of the crew, they had to go to Tamahere. The ship couldn't be left untendered. Sighing at her misinterpretation, she shuffled towards Anapa and Hina's cabin. Most of her assumptions about Rick's actions had proven incorrect, both good and bad. Left untouched was why a thrill of excitement had flooded her when she thought he was chasing after her.

* * *

Hina had to be begged to lie down. Her excuse was that she didn't want to disturb Anapa, who was still sleeping soundly. That argument was moot when Kate offered her own cabin. After showing Kate what to give him if he woke Kate was able to convince the older woman to rest, promising to get her if anything changed.

Kate checked Anapa before settling in a chair near him. He was quiet and didn't feel feverish. Picking up her book which she'd retrieved when forcing Hina to bed, she randomly flipped it open. Its familiar passages were a comfort while she watched over the captain. Her position was unchanged an hour later when a knock on the door announced Rick.

"Where's Hina?" He seemed surprised to he see her in Hina's place.

"I put her in my cabin to rest. She looked like she was ready to drop, and I somehow convinced her I could look after Anapa for a while."

He'd moved over to the bed, looking carefully at his captain but not touching him. Turning back, he faced her.

"That was a good idea. How has he been?"

"Sleeping, for the most part. He woke about an hour ago and I gave him the preparation that Hina made for him. He was lucid when he was awake, asking about the boat. I didn't know what to tell him other than you and Ari'i had called a meeting of the crew. He just nodded, said 'good,' then fell asleep again."

"Did you tie him up?" Rick's brows furrowed as he gestured at the bed. She'd found some extra sheets in a cupboard and tied them across his body.

She blushed, though she didn't know why. She didn't need to defend herself to this man. "Yes. He was crying out when his leg was jolted. The sheets keep him from rolling in the bed as much when the waves are strong."

"Good idea," he replied, a serious tone to his voice. Kate kept her eyes down, not wanting to see the smirk that almost always inhabited his face when they spoke. "Listen, Kate, could we talk out in the hall? I need to speak to you about our decisions, and I don't want to disturb the captain."

Looking up at him, she saw he was sincere. Nodding, she stood and followed him out the door, leaving it cracked so she'd hear any sounds of distress from Anapa if he woke again.

She almost wished she hadn't come when the dark hall and his looming presence sent her heart rate racing again. It was stupid to be so physically aware of the man; he had no interest in her, and she certainly had no interest in him. His deep tenor wrapped around her in the dark, and she closed her eyes to fight off the sudden gooseflesh that erupted on her skin.

"So, we talked as a crew. We can swing the shifts, though it won't be easy. Normally in a storm we do shorter duties; it takes more out of you. But it's doable. Tane is going to help. He's crewed before."

"Okay." It made sense, and she appreciated him keeping her in the loop. There was a short silence and she was ready to flee back into the room when he spoke again. Though, this time his tenor was raised about half an octave.

"So, we, uh….uh we were kind of wondering…"

His obvious reluctance put her on edge immediately. Though she'd already been on edge their entire time in the hall. What had him nervous now? Nothing that she'd like if he stuttered this much.

Though, maybe he wanted her help on the bridge too? It wasn't something she'd ever done, and they'd have to teach her. An image of her standing in front of the wheel with a certain tall, muscular someone right behind her, strong arms wrapped around her as he showed her how to guide the ship...

Shaking her head at her delirium, she wanted to shake him. Instead, she demanded an answer. "Just spit it out, Rodgers. What?"

"We were…uh…we were wondering if you could be the cook?" His words tumbled forth and she rapidly saw red.

"Oh, so since I'm a woman you just assume I can cook? Is that it? God, you are such a male chauvinist." Her hands shook as she kept hearing the question echo in her head. Oh, the arrogance of the man and his blatant assumption that the little lady knew her way around a kitchen.

His face gave nothing away; if he'd been leering at her like he'd done before she would've stomped on his foot and slammed the door in his face.

"You know, when you're mad you've got an artery right here," he touched her neck and she flinched, "that just throbs. Hope you never play poker; they'd clean your clock. And for your information, I wasn't asking you because you're a woman. I asked you because Tane will be doing extra shifts. He'll be exhausted. The rest of the crew, including me, can't do it. Hina will be taking care of Anapa. For obvious reasons we don't want Grollet involved. That leaves you."

Once again shamed by her false assumptions she still had enough pride to be insulted by the implication that she was their last choice. Her grunted response was less than enthusiastic.

He let out a heavy sigh. "Look, I'm sorry. This isn't an ideal situation, and I wouldn't ask you if we didn't need the help. I speak for everyone when I say we wish none of this had happened, but it has. And we were hoping we could count on you to help. You can't take a shift on the bridge, at least not while we're fighting the outer bands of a cyclone. So, if you don't mind, helping in the kitchen in any way would be a godsend."

Eyes watering, she clutched her stomach and berated herself in silence. Her reactions to this man were so extreme; lost in the sea of her emotion, she'd somehow forgotten how to be polite. "You're right. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I'd be happy to help, though I don't really know what to do."

"It's ok. Tane'll be able to show you what he needs. I have to go; we're still working out how best to do the shifts now that there is less experience to call on. I'll have Tane find you when we're done."

He moved back into the darkness, and she gave a sigh of relief that he wouldn't witness her remorse. Just as she was pushing the door to the cabin open, his voice found her again.

"Oh, and Kate? Thank you."

Clutching at the door, she tried to stay upright. Her knees couldn't hold her, for some reason.

* * *

**December 1999**

The next thirty six hours passed in a mindless haze of work and exhaustion. The crewmen had decided on a double shift of two men every six hours, with Tane filling in a few hours here and there to give them an extra hour or two of staggered sleep.

Ari'i or Arenui were always on with Rick, Tamahere or Tane as the weather worsened. Their superior knowledge and experience was needed as the ocean grew angrier and angrier with each passing hour.

Kate helped Tane as much as she could, though the terrible weather kept appetites down. They used cold foods for the most part, nothing heavy. When she wasn't in the galley, she was watching over Anapa and letting Hina get some rest.

She was rarely alone, though that wasn't something she'd planned or arranged. There was too much work to do and too few hands to do it. Her exhaustion was inevitable, but she wasn't alone in her fatigue. Every person, save Grollet, worked to save the ship and the captain. Extreme fatigue sent her into a deep sleep the moment she managed to lay down. Her mind was dulled; they'd passed into December, and no one aboard even noticed. Fighting the weather, fighting fatigue—there was no energy left for anything else.

Anapa was stable. His wife's painkilling potions helped a lot. Hina spent most of her time either nursing him or making more medications for him. Grollet had disappeared into his cabin and rarely ventured forth. No one was upset by this turn of events.

* * *

Rick was on duty with Ari'i when the first mate announced they were within hours of Tupua'i. That alone was a huge relief, but even better news was the fact that it had stopped raining and the ocean was marginally calmer.

"Hopo, you ever been to Tupua'i?" asked Ari'i.

Rick had, once. It was a magnificent island, surrounded almost entirely by a coral reef, or _motus_. There was a break in it on the northern side, which was how they would approach the island.

The Australs were much further south than the rest of French Polynesia, so they enjoyed a more temperate climate. Not that it got very cold, but there was more variation in the temperature than the islands to the north experienced. They were also the youngest islands; Tupua'i's volcanic past easily discernable. The combination of more moderate temperatures and rich volcanic soil made the islands of the Australs incredibly productive, from an agricultural standpoint.

"I have to say, I'm glad the rain has let up," Ari'i remarked. "It's midafternoon now; we might have some good light to go by if we're lucky. I wasn't going to chance an approach while the sea was so wild, but this'll be doable."

A few hours later the island slid into view. Ari'i felt that they would be safe navigating through the reef break, and within an hour they were docking at the wharf at Mataura, the village nearest the entry through the motu.

There was a collective sigh of relief from everyone on board upon reaching the small port. They'd all been challenged, both individually and as a group. Challenges that they'd passed, working together. It was homage to the training and love bestowed on them by Anapa and Hina, and they'd repaid their mentors in full.


	10. Chapter 10: A Headache Named Henri

**This chapter is dedicated to firerosedreamer67. One of the readers who has left a review with every new update, which I greatly appreciate. I love hearing from my readers; I've had three people read the entirety of what I've written, and they all three tell me they love the story. However, it is so uplifting and affirming to hear from others that what I've done has brought them pleasure, or that they've learned something. Thank you for all your reviews, firerose!**

* * *

**December 1999**

Help was obtained at once for Anapa, and he was soon settled into the medical clinic with Hina at his side. Grollet disembarked shortly after, telling only Kate where he was going. No one else cared, but Kate wrote down the name of his lodging, the _Pension Vaiteanui_. Kate found a small _pension_ near the clinic, the _Chez Yolande_, which allowed her to help Hina and Anapa as much as possible.

The crew of the _Iriata_, meanwhile, fell into an exhausted sleep. They still maintained a duty rotation, caring for the chickens and making some small repairs to the ship that the rough weather had caused. Unfortunately, about twenty four hours after their arrival, Ari'i fell ill with a gastrointestinal bug. It wasn't a surprise to anyone; he'd driven himself unmercifully after Anapa's injury. He became so dehydrated that he required admission to the same clinic that housed Anapa.

Caring for the chickens was not difficult, and the four remaining crew were fortunate to have lots of down time. The islanders and crew alike were relieved that the cyclone had veered east once more, sparing the island most of its wrath. It wasn't a strong storm, but a direct hit would have devastated the island for years.

Rick yawned as he stripped his t shirt off on the afternoon of their second day in port. He was ready for a nap, after having heard good news from Hina earlier in the day. They were hoping Anapa could be released soon. A knock on the door to the bunkroom interrupted his plans, as Tamahere stuck his head in.

"Hopo, just got a message that Anapa wants to talk to us."

Rick sighed and started pulling his t-shirt back on. "Do you know why?"

"_Aita, _no."

The four men walked the short distance to the clinic in a companionable silence. Tupua'i was very beautiful. With just over two thousand people on the whole island, Mataura was not large. In fact, most of the population was spread out around the circumference of the island. However, Mataura, with its wharf and nearness to the breach in the reef, was the largest village and considered to be the capital. Because Tupua'i housed the administrative seat of the Australs, it was better equipped than the other islands in its chain.

When they arrived, they found Anapa and Hina in the same small room he'd been in from his admission. Ari'i was a few doors down and was sleeping when they walked past. Rick blinked to see Kate there as well. He'd thought this meeting would involve just the crew, but Kate's presence spoke to something more.

Anapa was awake and looking much better. Rick thought it was easily the best he'd been since the unfortunate accident.

"_Ia ora na_. I hope you are all well, unlike poor Ari'i," their captain teased; the sparkle was back in his eyes and Rick was glad to see it.

"_E,_ Anapa. We four are too tough to get sick," Arenui answered; he was in charge now, with Ari'i down. "You're feeling better, I trust?"

"Day by day, thanks to you and my wonderful wife here. I'd like to thank you all for the incredible job you did. We all came through that storm due to your vigilance."

They accepted his thanks, proud to have earned his praise. He'd taught each of them, save Tane, and the success they had was due to his good training and patience.

"I hate to ask another large favor from you, but I have no choice. Monsieur Grollet, as you recall, was to be delivered to Raivavae. He's insisting that we finish the delivery, immediately, or he'll demand his money back. My understanding is that the storm has moved south and east?"

Arenui agreed; they'd still been keeping track of it.

"Then I'll put it to you. You're independent men and can choose as you wish. However, since Raivavae is but a day's journey and the storm is not a direct threat, would you be willing to take Monsieur Grollet to his destination?"

None of them were keen to do anything Grollet demanded, but they knew it would cause problems for Anapa if they refused. As one they looked at Arenui and nodded their heads.

"When would you have us leave?" Arenui asked.

"On the next ebbing tide, if you can. I know it is a lot to ask after what you've been through, and with Ari'i ill."

"It's not a problem, Anapa. Next high tide is around seven this evening. We can be underway and there by tomorrow evening."

"Thank you all so much. I'll have a message sent to Monsieur Grollet. And you do not need to hurry back; I'm not going anywhere soon, and Ari'i is still laid up as well. Take a few days there after you unload. I do not believe Hopo has ever been there."

"No captain. I've never been." Rick wanted to see Raivavae, and wanted even more to see the last of one Henri Grollet.

"I'd like to go too." Kate spoke up for the first time.

"Are you sure? I'm afraid with all that's happened you'll be cutting it close to get back to Tahiti in time," Hina exclaimed.

"I've thought about it," Kate replied. She nodded, once. "Yes, there should be enough time. I had one more week to deal with. And I hear there's an airport on Raivavae. If it comes to it, I can fly back to Papeete."

Hina smiled at her. "Well, it's a beautiful island. I think you'll really enjoy it."

None of them could know, as they filed out of the clinic on that bright day, that neither Rick or Kate would ever lay eyes on Raivavae.

* * *

They nearly missed the ebb. Grollet was late, and became even more agitated than usual when he overheard Tamahere muttering about missing their window due to his actions. Their passenger didn't understand the concern; since the _Iriata_ was a powered ship, he felt they should be able to leave at any point regardless of the tide. He didn't understand the crew's worry that trying to run the narrow opening outside of high tide would be foolhardy and dangerous.

Nonetheless, they did make it. Arenui was a skilled navigator, and had a lot of experience in the Australs from his teenage years. Even though Ari'i was the natural successor to Anapa, Rick was confident after watching Arenui guide their way through that he was a great substitute.

Arenui, though, didn't look too thrilled about their triumph. Rick was picked to take the first shift once they'd passed the reef. As he hopped up to the bridge to relieve him, words of congratulations on a job well done crumbled in his mouth. Arenui was pale and sweating, and gave Rick minimal instructions before heading downstairs to rest. Being in charge of the ship, it fell to Arenui to mollify Grollet during the trip; it was a job Rick was too glad not to have. Thankfully, his friend only had to get through the next twenty four hours, and they'd all be free of that snake.

After checking all the engine lights and satisfying himself that the ship was running well, Rick looked at the nav map. The weather reports he listened to had the cyclone stalled on its projected route south. Anapa had helped them plot a course to Raivavae before they'd left, but it now looked like that would lead them far closer to the storm than they wanted. There was no helping it: they'd have to swing north off their original plan. He replotted; it'd add only a few hours, and would save hours of grief. Satisfied, he sat back in the captain's chair to enjoy his shift.

At one a.m. Arenui relieved him. The older man remained haggard and pale; he gave a wan smile when Rick asked if he were ok. They all needed the down time they'd get once they arrived at the island. Rick showed him the replotted route and the storm predictions. Arenui agreed with everything, then shooed him off the bridge. Shift over, the only thing Rick wanted was his bed. Both Tamahere and Tane were sleeping soundly in their bunks; he joined them in dreamland within moments after lying down.

* * *

Kate was up at five thirty am, ready to prepare breakfast for everyone. No one else seemed to be about, not that she expected to see anyone. Grollet was rarely up before nine and the crew needed rest before their shifts.

Making coffee was the first priority. Her first cup was a necessity to get her brain moving. As she sat down with her steaming mug, she glanced out the window. It was still pitch black, and raining. The air felt heavy and wet, as though it were a blanket wrapping the ship in its cumbrous embrace.

The storm had dominated the discussion in the saloon last night. Everyone'd been hopeful that they'd miss most of it, but they still had hours to go and already the waves were growing. Shrugging, she finished her coffee and went back to work. Her job was to feed people, not to worry about the cyclone.

Pancakes and fresh, sliced fruit were the breakfast plan, but she began to second guess the pancakes as six am approached. Heavy rolls with the increasing waves made for a very dicey griddle experience. No one else had appeared, so she turned off the grill and grabbed a cup of coffee to take to Arenui. He'd appreciate the gesture after a long night, and she'd find out what to expect in terms of weather.

Stumbling sideways with a heavy wave on the stairs made her pause. Now that she was wide awake, she could feel the difference from the bad weather they experienced before Tupua'i: they were rolling from side to side with each wave. Clutching the railing, she started climbing again, eager to get out of the rain and the wild pitching as each wave struck the _Iriata_.

Darkness met her when she reached the bridge. She'd learned they almost never turned on lights during the night shift to preserve their vision. Knocking, she peered in, trying to let her eyes adjust.

"Arenui, I brought you some coffee."

He made no response, though she could see his dark outline seated in the chair.

"Arenui. It's Kate, with coffee," she said louder, stepping inside and promptly losing her balance when a strong wave pushed her back into the door jamb. Portside if she remembered the nautical term correctly. "Why are we rolling so much? Has the storm changed track again?"

He didn't respond and she moved closer. She could make out more details in the dark room, and suddenly saw that his head was slumped to the right side. Surely he wasn't sleeping on the job! She touched his shoulder, but he didn't respond.

"Arenui. Arenui!" she cried, shaking him. That's when she noticed his eyes were open, lifeless. "Oh, my God! Arenui!" she choked, one hand covering her mouth. His body was cold, arms stiff when she tried to move them. Checking fruitlessly for a pulse in his neck, she ran for the intercom by the door that connected to the bunkroom.

"Hello? Hello? If anyone can hear me, I need help on the bridge right now!"

Running back to the center, she grabbed the wheel, which was rolling to and fro without direction. Hina had taught her that it connected to the rudder, and she hoped to turn the ship into the waves instead of being shoved by them. The engine was still running, but she had no idea how to throttle it back. However, when she tried to turn the ship into the next wave, the roll that resulted knocked her off her feet. The ship violently shuddered as the rudder became directionless once again.

"What the hell, Arenui? What the hell are you doing?" Rick's voice shouting from below, as he struggled to climb the bucking.

"Rick, help!"

He stormed into the bridge, almost tripping over her where she lay in the floor. "What's going on? What on earth are you doing?"

"It's Arenui. He's—he's dead."

"What?!" He jumped over her and grabbed the wheel, no time to see to his friend as he tried to get the boat under control. They were in the troughs, and in real danger of broaching. Powering back, he began tacking to broad the bow at a 45 degree angle, just as Anapa had taught him. Slowly, things corrected and the ship smoothed out, no longer taking such a pounding.

Panic threatened to overwhelm him. He knew there was no way to get a fix on their location. It was still dark as night out; the cloud cover obliterated any hope of fixing on the moon or stars. Nothing more could be done but to heave to and wait—and pray they were far from any rocks. He looked over at Kate, who'd regained her feet and was rubbing her hip. "Are you ok?"

"Yes, just a little bruised. What happens now?"

Before he could answer, Tamahere and Tane arrived on the bridge. As they took in the tragedy of what had occurred, Rick saw Tamahere look up at the compass and then over at the now useless navigational charts. He shared a look of horror; they both knew the danger they were in.

"My God! How long has he been dead?" Tane gasped.

"I don't know, but his body is stiff. I think it's been a while," Kate answered, arms hugging herself as she shivered.

"Why are we in the storm? I thought it was far enough away we wouldn't run into it." Tane hadn't realized how far off course they were. Rick had no desire for a panic, but there was no way to hide the information.

"Radio last night reported that it'd stalled, so Arenui and I re-plotted a course northward to avoid it. We should have been fine," Rick frowned, wiping a hand across his brow. Everything had been on track when he'd left the bridge. But how long had the ship been underway without anyone steering it?

"I don't think the storm has moved much. I think we have." Tamahere was now the most experienced sailor on board. He spoke up, assuming command as was necessary.

"What does that mean?" Kate cried out.

"If I had to guess, I think Arenui died hours ago, and we swung south. We went to the storm essentially."

"Can't we just turn around then? Go back north?" Kate had no desire to be in the middle of a cyclone. The outer bands had been bad enough.

Tamahere sighed, turned and looked at the compass. It was pointing south east, as Rick kept them headed into the waves. "Unfortunately, it's not that easy. There's no way to know the exact path we took."

"Why does that matter? We'll just head north and escape the weather." Kate thought it was an obvious solution, but she didn't miss the grimace Rick made as she spoke. "What? Why can't we?"

He sighed, eyes somber. She trembled; she wasn't going to like what he said.

"We have absolutely no idea where we are. There's no way to take a measurement without being able to see the sky. With the heavy cloud cover we may not be able to see anything for days."

"But if we sailed north and got out of the storm, we could figure it out. Right?"

"Kate, if we move without knowing where we are, we're likely to hit something. I know this part of the ocean looks empty, but in reality there are thousands of volcanic rocks out there, just waiting to rip us open. We're roughly south of the Australs, assuming the storm didn't move. We just need to ride it out. The best plan is to power down so far to just maintain our position, then once the storm moves on we can get a fix and get back to Tupua'i or get to Raivavae."

"Is that right, Tamahere?" Kate quavered. She needed to hear it from both of them. She couldn't believe there was nothing else they could do.

"Yes. We're going to have to ride it out, best we can." Tamahere looked as scared as she felt, though his voice was calm. "We should have enough fuel, right?" he turned to Rick, who nodded.

"Yeah, got a full load at Tupua'i , thank goodness." Rick gestured at the unfortunate Arenui, "We need to move his body. We have to be able to use the bridge. Kate, come take the wheel from me. Try to keep the bow of the ship pointed into the wave like this," demonstrating as the next wave broke.

Once he was satisfied she wasn't going to capsize them, he, Tane, and Tamahere carefully lifted the body.

"Where are we taking him?" Tane asked.

"We can't leave him on the bridge. Let's see if we can get him down the stairs. We'll put him in the captain's cabin for now." Rick wasn't sure why he was making the decisions other than the fact that he was older than the other two.

As they laboriously moved down the stairs with their burden, both physical and mental, a door was scraped open.

"What is all this racket? What's going on?" demanded Grollet.

Rick groaned. Ignoring him, they reached the second level and were able to move more quickly. They place the body in Anapa's cabin. It was an unpleasant task, to say the least, made infinitely worse when they turned around and found Grollet's angry visage glowering at them.

"I demand an accounting. What happened?"

Rick held up his fingers and ticked off each event. "Kate found Arenui dead this morning. It looks like he's been dead for a while. We're way off course, in the middle of the cyclone and have no way of figuring out where we are. Does that answer all your questions?"

Without waiting for Grollet to say anything he walked off, brushing past the little worm. He had too many problems to contend with right now, most importantly taking the wheel back from Kate. Tamahere and Tane joined him to start planning what to do. Rick missed the look of impotent rage that Grollet sent him as he climbed back to the bridge.

* * *

The next two days were a blur. The three remaining crewmen did their best, but it was impossible to hold their position completely. Unlike the northern Pacific, there was no radio navigation network. Clear weather would've allowed them to get sextant readings to determine their latitude, though the chronometer would still be useless. However, the heavy clouds persisted. They were blind, and that fact preyed heavily on all of their minds.

Static was the only sound they raised on VHF radio. They were far from any shipping lanes, and it was everyone with any sense had sailed as far as possible from the looming cyclone. They were alone, with only their knowledge and Anapa's lessons to rely on.

The storm's intensity was incredibly grating: fighting the ship's wheel, jolted continuously when they didn't hit the waves right, exhausted by doing the work of many.

They had rigged jack lines in order to move about without being swept overboard. Grollet was enraged that no one had checked the chickens. The third time he screeched that no one cared Rick handed him a poncho and told him he was more than welcome to do it himself. That finally shut him up.

On the third day, Rick began to hear new creaks and groans from the ship as the waves continued to pound them. The _Iriata_ was a good ship, but she wasn't made for weather like this. The strain was tearing her apart. He and Tamahere began discussing throwing caution to the wind and trying to head out of the storm.

They asked everyone to the bridge mid-morning. The only way they knew the time was by the clocks and watches; little distinguished day from night. Torrents of rain hammered continuously, adding to their misery.

After everyone was present, even the odious Grollet, Tamahere and Rick shared their concerns and the dangers of staying, versus trying to make a run from the storm. Rick had one more matter to discuss as well.

"We need to discuss the evacuation protocol in case something happens to the ship. It's better to talk about it and hope we don't need it rather than run into trouble and not know what to do."

Tamahere and Tane nodded; they'd known this was coming. Kate was aghast. The storm was bad enough in the _Iriata_; surely in the tiny lifeboat it'd be a thousand times worse.

"We'll need to be orderly and calm. Take nothing but essentials. It's already stocked with a few survival rations and water, but grab as many non-perishables from the galley as you can. And some more bottles of water. Tamahere, you'll go out first."

Henri immediately interrupted, "Why him? Why shouldn't _I_ go first?"

Rick rounded on him, snapping, "Of course you can go first. I was only sending him first so he can get the lines deployed to launch it, but since you're volunteering that's fine."

Grollet rocked back on his feet, "No, no, no. That's all right. I was just... Never mind."

"Fine. Now, I'll start again," Rick glared at Grollet. "Like I was saying, Tamahere'll go first and get the boat ready to launch. Kate, you'll go second with the water and whatever rations you can carry. Tane, third with the same. Grollet fourth. I'll come last; Tamahere and I will launch with everyone in the boat." He looked around, seeing fear in all of their eyes. "Take only as much food and water as you can safely carry. Find some bags to put it in, so you can walk securely along the decks. Make sure you have a jack line hooked up to be safe."

Surveying the little group again, he saw nods of understanding. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs that he was a fraud; he didn't know why they were listening to him. He was terrified, but someone had to take charge and Tamahere wanted to follow, not lead. It was on his shoulders. Sighing, he added: "We're not likely to be rescued for some time, and with five people to feed it's gonna get tight. Bring high calorie items if you have a choice."

Grollet gave him a speculative glance that Rick couldn't read. He had no time to spare for superfluous complaints and imagined slights, so he ignored the man.

"Is everyone clear on the order? Ok, Tamahere, check below decks again and make sure the bilge pumps are keeping up. Tane, you'll take the next shift."

Rick relinquished the wheel, such as it was, and started down the stairs.

"Rick there's coffee in the saloon if you want." Kate thought he looked awful; they all did. No one could sleep, no one could eat. It was as if the storm was trying to kill them slowly; exhaust them before sending them to slumber forever in the bottomless depths.

"Thanks Kate. Don't mind if I do." He followed her down and poured a small cup.  
"Sorry about all this."

"How is all this your fault?"

"I don't know. I'm just sorry you're here, away from everything you know and there's nothing I can do to make it better."

"So you don't have any family?"

"No, I do. My mother."

"Won't she worry?"

"Ha, she's been worrying for the last twelve months, since I left New York. Fine, I see your point. But I took this job knowing there were dangers. You were supposed to be a passenger on the vacation of a lifetime."

"Is that what you think I was doing here?"

"It's not? Why else would you be here?"

Kate shook her head. "There's not time to go into it all. You need to rest; so do I. I'll see you later."

As Rick lay down a few minutes later, he wondered yet again why he seemed to always say the wrong thing around Kate Beckett. It was a talent, that's for sure. No other explanation.

Tamahere joined him, reporting the bilge pumps were keeping up. He and Rick both slept leaving Tane in charge so they could get a few hours of precious shuteye. Rick was dreaming he was on a roller coaster at Coney Island, when a horrific grinding noise and the sensation of flying through the air woke him. He just had time to think 'what the hell now?' when his head struck the wall and he fell unconscious.


	11. Chapter 11: The Die is Cast

**This chapter is dedicated to jennkyle. A voracious reader of Castle fanfic, she always has a comment and is always quite cheerful and supportive. Not just on things I write, but for many authors on the site. I really appreciate that she's stuck by me for this fic; she is a constant voice of encouragement. Thank you for always taking the time to read my updates and for being such a great reviewer!**

* * *

**December 1999**

Kate clutched the plane's armrest with white knuckles. They'd entered a steep dive, one that might be their doom. Turbulence was throwing everyone around and she cried out as objects flew past, pelting the terrified passengers. Suddenly, they reversed course—pulled into an ascent as ghastly as the descent had been. Her stomach rebelled, unhappy with the abrupt change in direction when they dove again. The pilot was fighting the plan, but it continued to buck all attempts at control. Kate was praying for deliverance when a loud grinding noise and reverberating thud sounded and she was flung from her seat. Waking up, she found that she'd been thrown from her bunk.

The horrific grating hadn't been a dream, as the sound tore through the ship again. It shook her to her marrow, and made her mouth go dry. They weren't being flung about, but this noise…this noise meant something worse had happened. Pushing the linens from her bed off her, she tried—and failed—to stand. Twisting around from the prone position she was lying in, she discovered her legs were snarled in what had been the open space beneath the wardrobe opposite her bunk. The wood was now contorted; no longer recognizable as drawers and doors. Legs stuck fast, she couldn't move.

Grinding metal interrupted her thoughts; they had to have struck something. The boat listed heavily to one side, and each wave that pounded into the hull elicited a loud screech. It was time to abandon ship before they all went down. Struggling, she tried to free herself; it was very awkward, given her positioning. Unable to properly see what was wrong, and unable to sit up and use her hands to tear a hole in the pile. Nothing felt broken, though her right ankle hurt like the devil. She was just…stuck.

The violent collision had popped her door open; she yelled for help, but nothing moved in the part of the hallway she could see. They wouldn't abandon her; she might now always like Rick, but he was reliable and diligent. He wouldn't willingly abandon ship without searching for everyone.

Minutes ticked past, feeling like a lifetime. Despair set in as she saw and heard no signs anyone else was alive. She was going to drown, alone. Her only comfort was that she'd be joining her mother soon.

She waited for water to flood her room. Periodically she'd violently struggle against her captor and then she'd lie still. What would it feel like to drown? Would it hurt? She'd accept death when it came for her. Not fight the very thing that would reunite her with her mother. Though, given a choice, she now knew she would've preferred to reunite with Johanna many years later. She wanted to _live_. But fate had another plan for her.

Wriggling again, she at last felt a give in one of the bigger pieces holding her down. Encouraged, she redoubled her efforts at shifting the wood when she finally heard a voice calling.

"Hello! Katherine? Where are you?"

It was Grollet.

"Henri!" she screamed, "I'm here! I'm here! In my room." She pounded on the floor, trying to get his attention by any means possible.

"Katherine! What are you doing? We must abandon ship." His voice had moved closer, and his head soon popped into view by the frame of her cabin door. He moved his gaze slowly over her body, taking in her predicament. His eyes had a flat expression that she didn't understand. "Ah, you are having some problems, no?"

"Yes. Henri, help me, please! I'm stuck under this cabinet. I think I've almost got it though. Can you just help me move this piece," she said, twisting to point at the largest piece trapping her, "I'm sure I can wriggle out."

He stood; unmoving and watching her like a cat watches a mouse. A shiver ran down her back at her vulnerable position. She saw him lick his lips before he spoke, tasting the air like a snake does with its forked tongue.

"You know, the other day I was hoping we'd be alone in this very room. But you disappeared and I was left by myself. Now I find you as I'd hoped, on your hands and knees, prostrate before me. It is a delicious image; one that I'll entertain many times whenever I think of you in the future."

She stared, lightheaded and mouth agape. Her throat convulsed, every molecule of saliva vaporized by a pulse of dread. Surely she'd misheard him. "That was a different situation, Henri. Right now we need to evacuate. We must hurry. Please, help me. I'm sure I can get out. Just the one piece of wood is all."

He relaxed his stance, leaning nonchalantly against the frame of the door. His tone was just as disaffected. "You know, it's truly a shame we didn't have more time together. I think I would have come to like you. Might have cared about you. If you'd given me a chance. And, speaking of chances, I have a mathematical question to pose to you. There are two boats, let's say. In both, there are rations for five people. One boat has five survivors. The other has three. Which boat will have a better chance for its occupants to survive, hmm?"

Kate made no answer; in truth she didn't understand what he was asking of her. He wasn't helping her. She was stuck and he was playing with her. Her life rested in the hands of a madman.

"No answer, my sweet Katherine? So beautiful, but perhaps not so intelligent. After all, you failed to recognize _my_ importance until it was too late. Well, it comes to my mind that the survival of three people on rations meant for five is the much better odds, don't you think?" He smiled; a smile that did not reach the flat, black eyes. Eyes that looked like the flat, black eyes of a shark.

"What are you talking about? There are five of us."

"Ah, but this is where you are mistaken, my beautiful Katherine. I found Rodgers already; he was unconscious, and I made sure he would stay that way with a quick blow to the head. Then, I indulged in a few sharp kicks to his body. It was very satisfying, marred only by the fact that he was already insensible and won't ever wake up to know that _I_ was the one responsible for his death. As disappointing as that is, it did leave us with four for the little lifeboat."

"We can't leave him. That's…inhuman," Kate said, her voice a near whisper. The entire situation must be a dream, like when she'd thought she was on a plane. "I'm just dreaming," she murmured. "Just dreaming."

"Then, imagine my surprise at finding you here, and in such a state. It's as though a higher power has interceded on my behalf. You are nothing to me—you spurned _me_, after all. I have no investment in _you_, quite the contrary. If I tell them I couldn't find you…hmm, no. I'll tell them you're dead. We can't have them searching for you. Yes, you are dead. It's like the book, no? 'And then there are three.' A much more manageable number, do you not agree?" He smiled at her, as if he'd just explained his choice on a dinner menu.

"I'll tell everyone how much it pained me to leave your body behind when they rescue me. _Au revoir, mon ami_. May your death be quick. Though it will likely be painful."

Kate couldn't breathe, frozen in the second when he'd started speaking and she'd stopped understanding the world. As he turned, he grasped the door, pulling it shut. She couldn't let it close; it'd be a life sentence. A violent lurch finally released her from the maw of the former wardrobe. Crawling to the door, she grabbed the handle just as she heard the key turning in the lock. The knob was frozen, secured for what remained of her life. She collapsed, pounding on the thick wood.

"Henri. No, please. Let me out. Please."

Something scraped the floor outside.

"Henri! PLEASE! Don't let me drown. HENRI?"

Voice muffled, footsteps fading, she could hear him walking to the stairs.

"I'll tell them all of my sorrow; you'll be remembered."

The last of his words were faded and he was gone.

"Wait! Henri! Come back here. HENRI. PLEASE! PLEASE!" she screamed, drawing out the last word for several seconds as loud as she could.

Nothing; no one answered but the grinding of the ship on its deathbed.

"Henri! HENRI! DON'T LEAVE ME TO DROWN." She pounded on the door until her fists were raw. "I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU, HENRI. YOU'RE A DEAD MAN, YOU HEAR ME? A DEAD MAN!" He didn't; no one did. She continued to scream; a series of meaningless shouts, not words. Screamed until her voice was raw and cracked, her fists swollen and bloody.

Sinking to the floor, she sobbed hysterically. She'd accepted her death earlier, when she thought she was alone and without hope. She'd found a measure of peace; reflected on her life and—mostly—calmly awaited its end. Now, that fragile acceptance had been destroyed. Her death was infinitely crueler in the hands of such a man rather than a random act of nature.

* * *

Rick wished the jackhammer drilling so near would stop. Why couldn't they work when he wasn't trying to sleep? Hell, he'd pay them to pause for half an hour. But the noise was unrelenting. Drifting closer to consciousness, he discovered the jackhammer was _in_ his head. He opened his eyes with trepidation; he couldn't remember what had happened.

A loud grinding noise that was _not_ in his head set his heart racing. Something was wrong. Very wrong. He was encased in darkness, and once awake other parts of his body began to clamor for attention besides the pulsing headache. Nausea promised to erupt into full-fledged vomiting if he turned his head. He couldn't move his legs far, his trunk was twisted awkwardly around something cold and metallic, and one arm was trapped underneath his body. His sides felt like Muhammad Ali had been using him for a sparring partner.

Slow and deliberate he explored with his free hand. He found the cold metallic object had a lip and a wide hole; when his hand encountered water he pieced it all together: he was on the floor of the head.

Had he been drunk? Or come down with the GI bug Ari'i had succumbed to? Unfolding his legs, he was attempting to stand when the ship gave a giant lurch and shriek of metal vibrated through his bones. Thrown against the toilet, he added a few newly bruised ribs to his list of woes. A vague memory of another loud shriek and then flying through the air came back to him. They'd struck something. Not. Good.

Reaching for the door handle, he shoved it open and was grateful for the dim light. His legs appeared fine, nothing broken or twisted. A quick inventory of the rest of his body revealed no blood or wayward bone. However, he found a large bump on the back of his head, near his ear, and another near his forehead. He must have struck his head on something several times.

Stumbling out into the bunkroom, he saw nothing but mattresses and clothing spilled out of drawers and across the room. It was a mess, but devoid of other people. He limped to the door of the saloon and found it equally messy, and equally empty.

"Hello? Tamahere? Tane?" His voice echoed back. He was alone, or the only survivor. Wobbling to the kitchen, he saw evidence that someone had survived: the shelf with water was missing half of its bottles, and the area of boxed foods had been pilfered.

Why would they have left him behind if they were gathering supplies for the lifeboat? He couldn't fathom abandoning someone and would never have guessed that Tamahere would—could—do so either. He had to get to the bow, figure out what was happening. Maybe they were waiting for him there. Just as he stepped into the saloon another lurch threw him into the largest table. All thoughts of his precarious position on a sinking ship were lost as blackness rushed up and took him down into its embrace once again.

* * *

**March 2010**

Tamahere sat back in his chair, having finished the last page Hopo had given to Afaitu. The fear that Hopo carried with him; the desperation to find Kate was now his fear and his desperation. They walked with danger, for if this story fell into the wrong hands…well, it was better not to think such thoughts.

He let out a heavy sigh. He could write the next part. The piece of the story that Hopo didn't know. Checking the clock, he saw that there was plenty of time before he was due to meet Afaitu. Creaking upright, joints groaning from their stiff positions, he shuffled to the kitchen to fix a light lunch while he considered what to do. He was no best-selling author, but it would be important to add his perspective on what had transpired. The truth; not the heavily edited version that had already been told.

Munching on his sandwich, he set himself to the painful task of remembering details from that horrible day. He'd pushed it down so far, for so long, that it was hard to remember much of anything. However, closing his eyes and recalling the sound of the _Iriata_ dying on that rock helped him remember the rest.

After cleaning up the kitchen, he approached the laptop once again; a man walking to his execution. Now that he'd decided his course, he hoped to have the words to make it a worthy addition. Sitting down once again, he started typing out the events from ten years ago.

* * *

**December 1999**

Tamahere wasn't sure they could launch the lifeboat. The ship was listed so far portside that the lifeboat was angled away from the sea. It would be very hard to do, but what choice did they have?

He'd been on the bridge with Tane when the collision occurred. The violent crash had thrown him into a wall, but all injuries were forgotten as he and Tane recognized catastrophe had just struck. Literally.

Luck had smiled on them at that point; though how much good fortune could you invoke when you find your crewmate dead, your ship in the middle of a cyclone and then you rip open the hull on a rock? Whatever you called it, the ship hadn't sunk immediately. He had no idea why, but he wasn't going to question it.

He and Tane had tried to grab what they could from the bridge. It was a mess; the large front window had broken, and part of the structure had twisted around itself. The torque of the superstructure moving compared to the sudden stop the ship had experienced had served to destroy the entire far side of the bridge. The side that'd housed the navigational maps and instruments. And the radio. Not that _that_ apparatus had been much use to them recently.

Without maps or sextant, they took what they could salvage: the two flashlights that were always kept on the bridge. Limping down to the first level, they opened the emergency locker. They took the essentials: the flare gun, a few ropes, and a hand cranked radio that had very limited range, but was better than nothing. There were some spare batteries for the flashlights, as well.

Next, they headed to the saloon, hoping to meet with the others. Unfortunately, the only other human they found was Grollet, busy piling food and water in a sack to haul to the life boat. No sign of Hopo anywhere. Tamahere started to move to the bunkroom to check it, when Grollet's voice rang out.

"No one's in there. I checked it already."

Tamahere turned, looking at their passenger. "Have you seen Hopo or Kate anywhere?"

"No, _mon Dieu_, no. No one besides you two."

Ignoring the man, Tamahere opened the door anyway, but didn't see any signs of life. The room was a mess but there was no sign of his friend. He'd probably made his way to the lifeboat. Returning to the saloon to grab what he could carry, he forgot in the fear and panic of the moment that Hopo had already gone over the evacuation protocol with them. And that he'd planned to be the last to leave, not the first.

"We have to get to the lifeboat before we sink. I'll go first, and help Hopo prepare to launch. Tane, get more food in a bag and all the water you can carry. Bring bottles, as we can fill them with rain. Grollet, go to the second floor and look for Kate."

Grollet gave a mutinous look but a glare from both Tane and Tamahere settled it. Tamahere turned back to Tane. "Give me about fifteen minutes then send Grollet and Kate. You come last."

Getting to the bow was a struggle. The boat listed so far to one side that without a jack line Tamahere twice would have slipped down the slope and into the water. He crumpled to his knees when he climbed up to the bow deck and found it empty. Where was Hopo? Perhaps he'd gone to the second level to rescue Kate? Tamahere couldn't waste time going back to look. It was his responsibility to get the lifeboat into the water. It was the only chance they had.

Fifteen minutes of difficult and dangerous work and it was ready. Just as he finished, Tamahere and Grollet could be seen crawling up the bow deck ladder. Peering into the gloom, he couldn't see anyone else with them. A ball of ice took shape in his gut.

"Where are the others?"

"Gone," was Grollet's reply.

"Gone? What do you mean, gone?" he was looking to the stern, at the twisted superstructure, waiting for Hopo to loom out of the fog with a grin at the stupid joke.

"Gone as in dead," Grollet shouted. He was staring at the lifeboat, wouldn't meet Tamahere's eyes.

"Dead!? They can't be dead. You're wrong." Tamahere unclipped his jack line, rehooking it so he could go back to the stern unfouled from the other two. Just as he stepped forward, Grollet's hand caught his bicep.

"I'm sure. I saw them both. Rodger's neck was snapped and Kate had a piece of wood driven into her head. They're gone. Dead. And so we will be unless we get off this boat."

"Where was he? He wasn't in the bunkroom. That's where I'd left him when I woke up early."

"What? Why does it matter?" Grollet jerked him around, spittle from his mouth landing on Tamahere in counterpoint to the rain.

"It matters to me. He's _my_ friend, and I'm in charge."

"Fine! He was on the second floor."

"Where on the second floor?"

"_Mon dieu_, he was…he was in Hina's workshop. Maybe he was stealing medicine, I don't know. But he was dead."

It made no sense at all, but Tamahere hadn't had time to check the second floor. He jerked out of Grollet's grasp and began to pick his way back to the stern. He'd only taken a few steps when another violent lurch of the ship sent them all tumbling to the deck.

"We have to go. Now," Tane screamed as he pulled himself back up, "they're dead. I saw them too."

Tamahere closed his eyes, throat thick with emotion. Grollet's words he'd never believe. But Tane was part of the crew. They'd not known him long, but he'd pitched in without complaint through all of the harrowing days and nights. Reopening his eyes, he looked to the sky, dark and gloomy. He had no choice. He couldn't risk the lives of the two living people, not when they didn't know how long until the boat would sink. The others couldn't launch the boat without him. There was nothing else he could do.

"Get in the boat," he barked, fists clenched and heart aching.

Grollet scrambled in first. The last lurch of the ship had worked in their favor for a change, giving them just enough room to clear the dying ship. Tane jumped in and Tamahere followed after checking the lines again.

"Hang on!" He'd threw them life jackets and cut the jack lines. It was now or never. He cut the last line and they fell into the ocean with a giant splash.

"Row!" he screamed at Tane; even Grollet had taken up an oar. They had to get away from the ship; if it sank now it would pull them down with it.

They made little progress until establishing a rhythm and working together. The soft shadow of the ship faded into the rain. There were no other landmarks visible. It was as if the ship had been grabbed by a giant hand in the middle of an otherwise empty ocean. A hand that would soon sink back beneath the sea, its prize clutched in its grip forever.

Tamahere looked back just once, allowing himself a moment to mourn all he'd lost on that ship_. _Two of his best friends were there; he prayed they'd find comfort in resting with the ship that had brought them all together. He ignored the chill of doubt that took root in his heart, the one that murmured Grollet was a liar. He couldn't afford to listen to that voice—it meant he'd sentenced Hopo and Kate to a watery grave. But the voice wouldn't leave him. He'd try drowning it out with drink and drugs, but it continued to whisper of distrust and suspicion. Later, he'd try to flee—running to Huahine Iti where he only listened to its poisonous accusations when he was sleeping.

That voice manifested as the nightmares that haunted him—haunted him until the day ten years after the wreck when he saw Hopo's picture in a newspaper.

* * *

**Thoughts? Thank you for reading.**


	12. Chapter 12: Coming Up Snake Eyes

**This chapter is dedicated to theputz913. We have PM'd frequently as the story advances, and I love seeing the thoughts and ideas for what's about to happen next. I think I've managed to surprise some people with the events from 1999, including theputz913. Thanks for all your reviews and your excitement over the story as it's unfolded.**

* * *

**December 1999**

Only constant vigilance kept them from turtling—or going hull up—which would've been their end. Flipping it back over in these waves wouldn't be possible. They kept the boat hoave to, taught Grollet what to do. No sails, just oar power and a lot of bailing. Never ending bailing.

Time slowed to a crawl as they fell into an exhausting rhythm. There was no time to rest, no time to think. If he'd had time, Tamahere might've been surprised that Grollet worked like a demon beside he and Tane. Much later he'd understand the snake's main talent was self-preservation. None of them wanted to die. To live, they had to work together. And work they did.

There was no way to tell day from night in the grip of the cyclone's ferocity. No way to know how long they spent endlessly bailing and steering into the waves. But, eventually, the rain slackened and there were fewer waves threatening to swamp them. Rotations of rest worked into the schedule until one miraculous hour the sun broke through the clouds and the fury of the cyclone burned out, giving way to the normal peace of the South Pacific.

They could finally rest. Tane and Tamahere left Grollet in charge as both were needed for the night shift. The first night after the storm brought clouds obscuring the heavens, much to their dismay. But upon sundown of the second day they had their stars and the moon to show the way.

Navigation maps and sextants would've been very helpful, but both Tane and Tamahere were natives to this stretch of ocean. They'd been raised in her caress; had been taken into her waters many times by their families before they could walk. A rough reckoning of their position was possible just from their own knowledge. It was all they could rely on, since the radio refused to work.

It wouldn't be easy, but they'd been through the worst. They'd be found, eventually. But every time he closed his eyes, Tamahere grieved that there was no possibility of finding the _Iriata_ again without dumb, blind luck. They'd moved for hours under speed while the unfortunate death of Arenui went undetected. And in the lifeboat, they'd spent innumerable hours just trying to survive. No, there was no way he could figure out where the old girl might lie. But Anapa would help; the old man knew these waters like the back of his hand.

The wily captain would figure it out. And Tamahere vowed he'd bring his friend's bodies back to Papeete if the ship remained above the water. If not, he would at least be able to pay his respects to the site where they'd lost their lives.

* * *

**March 2010**

Stretching his aching back, Tamahere flinched when he saw the time. He saved the work to the flash drive Afaitu had given him and set out to rendezvous with the younger man. They were meeting today at Afaitu's house. Like many houses on Mo'orea, it backed up to the jungle. This provided nearly invisible access, unseen by any watchers on the road. Even so, he approached it as if navigating through an uncharted reef: slowly and carefully.

Afaitu was waiting for him on the back lanai, cold beer in his hand and an unopened can of soda for Tamahere. Settling into a chair, Tamahere offered silent thanks with a nod to the lawyer. They sat, drinking in silence as Tamahere tried to slow his hammering heartbeat. What he'd translated so far would get them both killed.

"Did you have any trouble deciphering it?" Afaitu asked, squeezing his beer can hard enough that it popped as he spoke. Tamahere jumped and the lawyer stared at him for a long second. Oh, he'd know soon. They'd share in the peril.

"It was slow going initially. Took a while to get used to the code. But once I got the hang of it I was able to go at a good pace."

"Does it reveal why Kate would be in danger? In danger from _them_?"

Tamahere took a deep, ragged breath. "Yes."

"Do you agree with Rick that they'll be eager to find her? To take drastic action if they discover she's alive?"

Shuddering, Tamahere took a deep draught from his soda, wishing it were stronger. But he'd been down that road before; now he had to keep a keen edge to help his friend. He peered into the jungle, eyes probing for anything that didn't belong. Nothing was out of place. He glanced at Afaitu who was sitting tensed in his seat, still waiting for his answer. He had only one to give. "There's no doubt."

Afaitu sighed, a frown marring his face. "I never expected anything like this when you came to me with a story of a wayward pig. Now I'm in the middle of it, and I can't stop thinking about it. I want to know what happened to Rick and Kate. Where they've been, what they've been doing. How they survived. Why he's here without her. It's a mystery spanning ten years and I'm dying to know the answers."

Tamahere fished in his pocket, withdrawing the flash drive. He held it out to the younger man, hand trembling. "They'll kill to keep this quiet. It's our honor—our responsibility—to deliver Hopo and Kate safely back into the world. Here's the start of your answers."

Taking the drive, the lawyer tipped the can up, downing the rest of his beer. He then stood and slipped into the house, leaving Tamahere to sit alone with the songs of the birds and his memories of the darkest days of his life.

Forty five minutes later, the door opened and Afaitu reappeared. He was pale with beads of sweat coating his face, despite the comfortable day.

"Do you think this is true?" he asked, collapsing in the chair he'd vacated earlier.

Tamahere gave an emphatic nod. "Hopo is no liar. And I have long been acquainted with the many faults of the two."

Afaitu gave no immediate response, appearing to be deep in thought. A few minutes later, he stirred. "This is going to be delicate. And dangerous."

"You knew that from the beginning. I told you there'd be risk."

"Yes, but you forgot to mention we'd be taking down a government."

Tamahere grunted. Hopo and Kate faced the gravest danger, but anyone who knew the full story would be at risk until the whole festering mess was exposed to the rest of the world. He'd wanted to help from the time he'd discovered Hopo was alive. Knowing the truth made him more determined than ever that those who'd prospered from such treachery would face justice.

"If such a thing happens as a result of actions, is it wrong? Nothing we did, nothing Hopo or Kate did led them to operate as they have. They used the situation to achieve their present positions. A situation based on lies. For me, I am more than happy to see that they answer for their crimes. If it destroys what they've built, well, that isn't my fault. It's theirs."

Afaitu scrubbed one hand over his face and stared at the cracked concrete underneath. "I don't know how to go forward. There are so many paths from this point, all fraught with danger. One wrong step and we're all dead men."

Another grunt was the only answer given. Tamahere was great at following orders and he was a tireless worker, but a strategist he was not. That's one of the reasons he'd sought Afaitu in the first place.

They spent much of the night plotting and planning. When there was nothing left to discuss Tamahere slipped away into the blackness. Afaitu slept little, wrestling with the balance of two lives in his hands. His greatest fear wasn't for himself, but the thought of failing. Of disappointing his long-dead uncle.

"I'll do my very best. You must help guide me, Anapa," he whispered. A feeling of peace enveloped him at that moment, and he was able to rest at last.

* * *

**April 2010**

The next morning Afaitu dove into preparations for the plan he and Tamahere had hashed out. He rearranged his office schedule and took care of any pressing business that couldn't be put off. Two days later he returned to Nuutania. When Rick bounced in, the energy radiating off of him was unmistakable. He clutched a sheaf of papers covered in his scribble and an expectant look on his face. But that wasn't the only thing covering his face.

"What happened?" he asked, appalled at the bruises sported by the other man.

Rick waved a hand, dismissing his concerns. "Nothing. Just a minor difference of opinion."

Afaitu narrowed his eyes, not ready to drop the subject. "Over what?"

"They wanted to bother me. I wanted them to leave me alone." Rick dropped into the chair opposite. Up close, the swelling was impressive, especially along the right cheek, but the damage looked to be merely cosmetic.

"They? How many were there?"

"Three," came the reply.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah, fine. Look, it was actually a good thing. I proved that I'm no easy mark, so they'll leave me alone."

Afaitu nodded and switched gears to most vital issue.

"Tamahere was able to translate what you gave me. It was…interesting."

Settling the papers on top of the table, Rick gave him a piercing look. "You sound as though you don't believe it."

"No. No, I do. I just didn't realize the scope of the involvement. Or the danger we'd face."

"And you want out now? You'll abandon me? Abandon us?" Rick clenched his fists, breathing hard.

"I won't abandon you, Rick," he exclaimed. "Not now, not ever. I didn't mean to make you doubt me. It's just that the next step has to be executed perfectly. So many things could go wrong, and they won't hesitate to act."

Rick slumped, resignation replacing rage. "Why do you think I pled guilty? I revealed my name to that reporter, and it gained their immediate attention. If I died Kate would have no hope of rescue. I'm the only one who can find her."

Afaitu leaned forward, entreating, "You can trust me with the information. I'm in this all the way, and if the worst happened and you cannot reveal where she is, at least I could."

Rick closed his eyes and grasped his head in his hands. He let out a loud groan before peering back at Afaitu. "I wish I could. God, how I wish I could. But I can't remember." Tears filled his eyes. "I can't remember," he repeated hoarsely. "I've tried; I've _tried_. I could draw a map of the island. But the weeks drifting on the raft are lost to me." He started to sob. Afaitu was frozen in place, unable to comfort the bereft man.

When the sobbing slowed down, he started speaking again. It was almost a whisper, and Afaitu had to listen closely to understand.

"I _have_ to find her. I couldn't risk them doing something stupid, like killing me, so I pled guilty. If I'm dead, no one would know she's still out there. I _had _to live. I did what they said. Was rotting behind bars, until you and Tamahere found me."

Afaitu sat in silence; allowed the other man to regain his composure.

"Did anyone ever look? Find anything? Surely they looked for the shipwreck?" Rick burst out.

Afaitu shook his head, grimacing. "A token search, no more. Nothing was found. How are you going to find her if you don't know where to start?"

"I've got money—or at least I did. My original plan was to describe the island to Anapa; he would've known exactly where it was. After I learned of his death, my next plan became hiring a plane or a ship to search east and south of Tupua'i. However long it took. But I can't do it from inside this shithole."

Pushing his chair back with a loud scrape, Afaitu stood and began to pace as Rick stared at him in surprise. "This is the crux of the matter, no? We can't bring her back until you're free. We must reveal your true identity."

"How are you going to do that? No one believed me before. Now you want them to listen to a convict when they ignored a castaway? Seems impossible to me."

Afaitu stopped pacing and turned to face Rick. "Ah, but you're not going to be the one proclaiming your identity," he cried, pointing a finger at him.

"Then who? Tamahere will be dismissed as a crackpot, if they don't outright kill him first."

"No, no it cannot be Tamahere," Afaitu muttered, resuming his pacing. "He is expendable, just like you. We _must_ make it so they can't kill you. Once you're free the search for Kate can begin. It'll have to be quiet; undetectable. You'll have to pretend you've been alone this whole time."

Nodding, Rick considered his options. "What if…what if I say that after the wreck I was knocked out—which is the truth, and they know it—but that when I woke up I found myself all alone? Lifeboat gone, I assumed the rest of them, including Kate, had made it off the ship. I was lucky enough to land on a deserted island and have survived alone all these years?"

"I think that'd work. Though Grollet knows that Kate was alive when he left."

"I was concussed. I didn't check the ship very carefully after I found the lifeboat gone. I had to get off quickly, before she sank."

Afaitu grinned and resumed his seat. "Yes, that's great. However, you'll have to act as if you're thrilled to be reunited with the rest of them. They'll try to spin it as more positive publicity for themselves."

Rick snorted, shrugging. "I've no doubt they'll milk it for all it's worth, especially that snake Grollet. But I'll do it for _her_. Even if I have to lick that toad's shoes. I'm the son of an actress; I can play my part."

Tapping his fingers on the table Afaitu stared at the other man, head tilted to one side. "Speaking of which, I wanted to talk to you about your mother."

"Excuse me? What does she have to do with this?"

"I believe she is crucial in getting you exonerated."

Eyebrows raised, Rick pursed his lips but didn't speak. Afaitu plowed on; he had to have Rick agree to this part of the plan. He was the only leverage Afaitu could use to approach Martha Rodgers.

"Think about it, Rick. She's the key. If she were to declare you were her son they couldn't keep you here. We _must_ use her to free you."

Rick's lips twisted into a sneer. "I wrote her letters. Several. After the amnesia was gone. Not once—not _once_, did she bother to answer. Never called. Never contacted me. She won't want to be involved. Come up with a different plan."

"Won't want to be involved?" echoed Afaitu. "Do you think for one minute that your letters to your mother ever made it out of the infirmary? Do you?"

Rick sat, hunched over and miserable as Afaitu aimed his words at him and hit the mark. He made no effort to respond.

"You, of all people, know _exactly_ what Grollet is capable of. We've sat here, planning, discussing how careful we must be given his power. And now you tell me that you honestly think your mother doesn't care about you because she didn't answer letters that you sent her _while in their care_? Seriously?"

Rick buried his head in his hands for a few seconds, rubbing his eyes. When he looked up Afaitu saw the bitterness had faded—but not dissolved.

"Not just the letters. I tried calling her. One of the nurses let me use the phone, once. I dialed our old number, but it wasn't her."

Afaitu took a deep breath before he spoke again, voice calm and gentle. "Rick, it's been ten years. Her son was dead. You can't really expect she'd remain exactly as you left her a decade ago. So, she's moved. We live in the information age now. I can find her. Find a way to contact her from the internet."

A slow shake of his head showed Rick's doubt. "Martha Rodgers isn't exactly a unique name. She was an actress before I disappeared. Did some Broadway and Off-Broadway stuff. Though maybe she's retired now? Or, what if," his voice broke, "what if she's died since I disappeared?"

Afaitu smiled. On this one front he could reassure his client. "She's definitely not dead."

"How would you know," came the stiff reply.

"I looked her up on Wikipedia." A blank stare greeted that news. "A lot has changed since 1999. Things are possible you'd never imagine. But there's no time to explain it all. Just trust that I've found information about her; about what she's been doing. She came here several times after your disappearance. Offered rewards for information, for the location of the wreck. Nothing turned up. She stopped coming; probably too painful. She went back to New York and threw herself into her next role. It was a major hit. She won a Tony and started getting offers for movie roles. She's gone on to win two Oscars and is quite famous. Finding her isn't an issue. Getting close enough to talk to her will be the difficulty."

Rick's stared at him, eyes glazed over.

"She looked for me?"

"Yes."

In shock, Rick collapsed his head on the desk. She'd looked for him. He'd spent hours thinking the worst of her. Undeserved, uncharitable thoughts. She was a victim as much as he in this whole mess.

"The tricky part is the approach. There remains a standing offer of a reward for information that would lead to your location. Grollet and his henchmen will have warned her about you—that you're an imposter who tried to pose as her son, but then admitted it was a hoax. She likely won't take your calls now, or listen to a message from you."

Rick nodded, agreeing. He wouldn't have believed him either, given the circumstances.

"Only one picture of you was ever printed. From the day you were rescued. Wild shaggy hair, unkempt beard. Emaciated and ill. It's a miracle that Tamahere recognized you. You appeared insane, which was exactly how they wanted you to appear."

"They sent a man, someone I didn't know," Rick mumbled. "Said I'd be dead in days if I didn't cooperate. I had to shut up and accept the prison sentence. I couldn't risk dying, not before I find Kate." He'd worried about her fate and never considered the desperation they'd use to keep his identity unknown. Looking up, he gave voice to the last issue still needling him about his mother's absence since his return.

"Don't you think she'd have been curious, though? She's still offering a reward, you said. Wouldn't she investigate every lead? Why would she just believe them?"

Afaitu leaned towards him, palms spread open on the table. "Why wouldn't she believe them? Why shouldn't she? She's been dealing with them for ten years. You know how charming Grollet can be. Everyone, and I mean everyone believes their version of the events. Who are you, but a nearly dead man found floating in a boat? Look what they have achieved while you were gone. Who would you believe?"

Rick dropped his head, defeated. He'd wanted to blame his mother, at least a small part of him, for not recognizing him. For not rescuing him. But she was just as much a casualty of their crimes as he and Kate were. "How do we get her to believe us now?"

"She moved back to New York last winter, after living in Los Angeles for years. I've booked a flight to New York, and will track her down in person. I need _you_ to write a message to her. One that leaves no doubt that it's really you."

Nodding, Rick considered the plan. It could work. Like all families, there were shared memories that no one else on earth could know about. "And then?"

"And then we'll come back, together. She'll identify you while I arrange to have some press here—publish the story immediately. We have to make it mushroom so rapidly that they can't cover it up."

"Will they set me free immediately? How'll they act around me?" Rick stood. It was his turn to pace.

"I don't know if they'll set you free immediately, but I hope they will. You're famous, your mother is famous. It'd behoove them to act rapidly. They'll try to spin it all to their advantage, and you'll start playing your role. A man happy to be back after so many years alone."

"Won't people wonder why I changed my plea to guilty?"

"I'm sure they will. How would you answer that question?"

Rick stalked around the room. There was no point in unmasking himself—and Kate—if he couldn't come up with a reasonable answer to questions that would be sure to be asked. "That—that I realized no one believed me. That I'd been so delirious at the end of my time on the ocean, I thought I really might be a fraud? And by the time I got my head screwed on straight, I was already in jail. So, through you as my lawyer, my mother came and proclaimed my true identity"

Afaitu gave him an approving nod. He'd given the question some thought. Rick's answer was simple, and close enough to the truth that he had no doubt of success.

"It'll work," Rick said, sinking back into his chair. "Though there are a lot of chances for it to all go to hell."

"It'll work. They won't know what hit them."

Rick grunted, already considering and discarding the words he'd use in his mother's message. He couldn't wait to see her, now that he'd accepted that she'd been ignorant of his circumstances. All he wanted was for her to wrap him in her arms, like when he was a boy, and tell him it all would be okay. He craved the reassurance, because every time he closed his eyes all he could see were Kate's eyes watching him. He had to save her. There was no other option.

Message chosen, Rick wrote down the words on a blank sheet. Once she read it, there was no question she'd know it was from him. Afaitu's most difficult job would be to find a way to make her read it. He shoved the message and the next chapters of their book at the lawyer, who placed them in his briefcase before regarding Rick again.

"You must prepare yourself for the level of attention this will generate, once your story is known. Best-selling author risen from the dead after ten years. World-famous actress who is your mother. And the response to _your_ story will be _nothing_ compared to what'll happen when the full truth comes out. When Kate is revealed."

Flinching, Rick looked away. Afaitu's eyes narrowed at the reaction, but Rick responded before there was time to inquire. "If we could do this without any attention from anyone, believe me, I'd prefer it. But it doesn't sound like that's an option."

"No, it's not. They won't dare touch you once everyone realizes who you are. The spotlight will shine intense upon you, but there'll be no shadowed paths for them to strike without being seen. Publicity and attention was embraced and twisted by them ten years ago. It'll be their downfall a decade later."

"I don't know the full story of what happened. Just that they were rescued and somehow Grollet came out a hero."

Afaitu looked off into the distance, eyes unseeing as he remembered those exciting days after their rescue. The news had occupied daily life in Tahiti for weeks.

"Tamahere and Tane figured out their rough latitude by the stars. They sailed west, convinced they were well east of the Societies, at least. It took many days, but they had the advantage of the rainy season for fresh water. They rationed food and caught some fish. Some three weeks passed, and Tamahere became ill. Doctors later said something he ate. They were found, having made it to some of the shipping lanes. It's said that Grollet took over; that he sailed them to their salvation."

Rick snorted. "Please. That man didn't know one end of a boat from the other."

"Nonetheless, that's the story; one that Tane backs up. Tamahere was delirious by this time. It was a sensational event: three men, the sole survivors. Caught in a cyclone, but through bravery and skill escaped their watery death. Grollet was made for the camera, and he never turned away an interview. Most of it centered on their epic journey, but he did manage to insert how deeply he sorrowful he was about being forced to leave your bodies behind. Especially in your case, once he realized just who you'd been."

"He _left _us there. Left us there to die. He _knew_ we were alive." Corded veins stood out in stark relief on Rick's neck as he lived through it again.

Afaitu paused a moment, letting his client calm before continuing. "You know that. Tamahere and I now understand his crimes as well. The rest of the world was fed a different story, one they lapped up like crazy. Grollet was a real life hero, far too famous to cast doubt upon by the time Tamahere was recovered enough to tell his version. He'd have been accused of jealousy if he'd tried. Remember, Tane confirmed every single supposed fact out of Grollet's mouth."

Rick shook his head. Tamahere would've had no chance to be believed when it was two against one. He'd never had a choice in the matter.

"Grollet was celebrated all over Tahiti; written about all over the world. Every man, woman and child in the islands knew the story. Tamahere faded into the background, lost into a cycle of substance abuse that eroded his credibility further. Then he disappeared completely, fading into the jungles of Huahine Iti. Grollet's star ascended higher and higher as he leveraged his fame into true power. He brought Tane with him: a tame lap dog that'd do his bidding."

"And his fame led him to politics?" rasped Rick.

"Of course. What else would you expect from a man made famous by lies? He joined those who spin lies for a living. He'd pulled the wool over the eyes of a nation with his tales of his derring-do. Why not build upon it?"

"So he leveraged his fame from the rescue to move up the political ranks of Tahiti? To become what he is today?"

Weighing his words, Afaitu hesitated before explaining his thoughts. "Yes. Your existence, once revealed, will hurt him. He left you behind, after all. Our job is to convince him it's not the death knell he expects. But once you find Kate, well, her story will be a fatal blow. He'll be ruined, and he'll take Tane down with him. His act of cowardice will finally catch up to him. It seems like such a mundane thing, how it started. If he'd been a true man and tried to help you. If he'd never taken the key to her door and locked her in a tomb. If he hadn't crowed so loudly about his role in their survival. If he hadn't been so desperate to accept the accolades, and then used them to his advantage. If Tamahere hadn't been so ill, and had been recognized as the man whose skill saved them. Alter any one of these things, and he would not—could not—be what he is today."

Rick nodded; the gravity of their situation had been clear to him from the time he'd awakened and discovered Grollet was alive. Not just alive, but who he was now. Not to mention the power he wielded over Rick—and by extension, Kate.

"The president of Tahiti," he whispered, careful even now to not attract unwelcome attention.

The fucking president.

* * *

**French Polynesia is currently labeled an "overseas country" of France, **_**or pays d'outre-mer au sein de la République. **_**This allows a certain autonomy, and allows for opposing the application of laws passed by the French parliament that do not respect the areas of responsibility given to the island nation.**


	13. Chapter 13: Pt 2 Funny Finding You Here

**This chapter is dedicated to nire47. Most of our conversations have occurred on twitter, either in public or in DMs. She's followed my other stories, and always has interesting comments and questions. I feel very fortunate to have her in my corner, and I love wondering what she's going to say about each update. Thanks for the support and for keeping me on my toes!**

* * *

**April 2010**

Rick sat motionless in his cell for hours after his lawyer left. So much could go wrong. So much _had_ to go right. He was being dragged down a long, black path, weighted down by his guilt and grief over being separated from her. What was she doing? Did she think he was dead? Would she try something foolhardy, desperate to escape the island?

Afaitu would be gone for many days; the flight to New York was over half a day alone. He couldn't sit and mope, worrying and waiting. The best thing to do was to write. Continue their story to show the world what they'd done; what they'd lived through.

He'd written no more than half a page when a shadow fell on him. Looking up, his eyes widened. A giant was looming, casting a shade that covered both Rick and his table. Rick pushed his chair back, unfolding from the seat. He was no small man. Six feet two and broad of build. It was rare that he met someone physically larger, but this freak of nature was enormous.

"Can I help you?" Rick asked after the giant just stood there, staring. He was Polynesian, though not tattooed like a Marquesan. He had long, black hair pulled into a topknot before spilling down his back. He was wearing the standard prison uniform, though the poorly made khaki pants were straining to contain the man.

"Salesi."

Rick stood, silent. Was that a name? Another language? Code for 'I'm about to turn you into a pretzel?' If it was to be a fight, Rick didn't like his odds. Playing dumb, he took the nice approach. "Ok, nice to meet you Salesi. I'm Ri…Dupont."

"Know who you are. Who you _really_ are," grunted the colossus.

Rick's mouth gaped open. No one had known him, besides Tamahere. And Rick would definitely have remembered meeting this Guiness Book specimen. "Who I really am? What do you mean?" he squeaked.

The mammoth turned back and forth at a glacial pace, looking to make sure they weren't being overheard or observed. "Richard Castle, the author."

Rick had no recollection how he stayed upright. He'd used his real name while living in French Polynesia, for various reasons. It was rare that anyone in the South Pacific knew who Richard Castle was, given that his books weren't bestsellers in France. Yet, this mountainous man had done just that.

"Why—why would you say that?" he gasped.

"I read. A lot. Read your books."

Good God, he'd found a fan. In prison. "You've read…my books?"

"Saw your picture."

"Oh." Oh.

"Knew was you."

Rick took his own furtive look around before beckoning the giant closer. "Look, Salesi is it?" seeing a nod, continued, "it's just that most people don't know me by my pen name. I'm Dupont, here. And it's pretty important to keep it all quiet. Understand?"

"Sure. Won't tell."

Rick stood, looking at his…biggest?...fan. Why was he here? What was his story? Intrigued, he gestured to the other chair. "Would you like to sit down?" He had no expectations of gaining a friend, despite the conversation so far. The other prisoners treated Rick as if he had leprosy. He was happy they left him alone, after proving he could take care of himself.

He alone had no cellmate; the man assigned to the cell had left on day one, preferring to bunk with two others, rather than be associated with Rick's invisible taint. The guards hadn't cared.

So when Salesi sat down, Rick was shocked for a second time that day. Glancing around, the big man confirmed their isolation. Most of the other prisoners were currently watching TV in the rec room. No one was paying attention to either of them.

"Guards planning to take your papers tonight," Salesi offered.

"What? How do you know that?" sputtered Rick.

"Overheard 'em," was the response.

Rick frowned, looking at his work. They wouldn't be able to read them, but he didn't want to have to rewrite it all. And if this became a regular pattern, he'd never get anything done.

Cocking his head to one side, Rick looked up at the larger man. "Why are you telling me?"

"You should know. 'S'not fair, what they did."

"What's not fair?"

"Bogus trial. Messing you up."

Rick broke out in a sweat. The man knew the trial had been a sham. Who he really was. If he ran his mouth to the wrong ears….though the guy wasn't exactly loquacious. Still, the more he knew about his erstwhile fan, the better. "And you're here because….?"

The big man shrugged. "Messed me up, too. Can't trust anyone here. But trust you."

"Why?" Rick couldn't help but cry out. He'd just met the man, after all.

"Read your books. You're honorable man. Couldn't write so, otherwise."

Rick let the answer percolate. The man seemed sincere. He wasn't about to confess his secrets to him, but it'd be nice to have _someone_ in the place who wasn't trying to hurt him. "Okay, my friend of very short sentences. What do you suggest I do?"

"Give me pen."

Rick handed him a pen.

"And blank paper."

Rick handed the man some blank paper. And watched with a naked stare as Salesi started scribbling.

"What are you doing?"

"Writing."

"Yes, I can see that. Why?"

Salesi glanced up. "I write. You write. Night comes, we trade. Guards take my papers. I keep yours safe."

Struck by the simple kindness, something he'd been sorely lacking in his recent life, Rick just gaped at his new partner. Finally Salesi looked up. "Write."

"Right."

And he did. That night, the guards did indeed take his papers. Taunting him, not bothering to even look at them, they crumpled them and threw them in the trash, then dumped the remains of the prison's dinner in the same bin. Rick pretended to be upset to keep up the charade.

The next morning Salesi sat with him again, giving back his papers and starting a new set. Rick continued the story without fear of it falling into the hands of the guards who gave the gentle giant a wide berth.

Salesi moved his stuff into Rick's cell two days later. Neither said anything; neither needed to. The rest of the prison took note of the new friendship and all remaining harassment of Rick ceased immediately. Salesi, who was also American by virtue of being born in American Samoa, brooked no disrespect towards himself or towards Rick. A lifelong friendship was born, in a place designed to destroy the souls of men.

* * *

**December 1999**

He was cold. And wet. He must've fallen asleep in the bow and was getting soaked with sea spray. But what on earth was that grinding noise…it all clicked into his head in an instant. They were sinking; he'd been going to check the life boat.

He was lying near the back deck door of the saloon when he opened his eyes this time. It was standing open with rain falling steadily inside, striking the floor and spraying him.

Groaning with the effort, he got to his knees. His head was still pounding, but the nausea seemed to have passed. He stood, swaying, and took stock of the situation. The sky was lighter and the rain had slackened. Visibility had marginally improved with the softening rain.

He couldn't see the bow, or whether the lifeboat remained. No one else was in sight.

"Hello? Anyone?"

No one answered and the shouting made his head pound harder. Rejecting the temptation to go up to Hina's workshop to get something for his head, he headed outside. His first priority was getting to the bow. If they were waiting for him…he had no idea how much time had passed. Maybe they were still there.

Hooked into a jack line, he made the normally two minute journey in thirty minutes. The list of the ship combined with his head injury made his balance suspect, at best. It was harrowing and dangerous. Yet, the moment he climbed the bow ladder and found the life boat gone was by far the most nauseating. Collapsing to his knees, he nearly slid into the crane base. There weren't other boats; at best there were some life jackets in a locker at the stern.

He sat on his knees for a few moments, despite a new voice screaming in his head that there was no time to waste. Clambering back to his feet, he considered his options as he shuffled back to the stern. The good news was that the_ Iriata_ hadn't sunk yet. If they were stuck fast on a rock, he might have enough time to let the storm clear. Maybe get a better idea of where he was, instead of plunging into the sea and hoping for the best.

Once in the saloon he took drank some water and dried off with a towel he found flung on the floor of the bunkroom. Changing into dry clothes felt heavenly, but his head still ached so he went up to the second level to get some relief.

He paused on the landing; the second level looked horrible. The superstructure had twisted around itself, and beams were protruding into the hall and blocking some of the doors. The worst was the entry to the captain's cabin; they'd left Arenui's body there. Rick felt his friend might not mind a burial at sea when the ship did sink.

Hina's workshop door was deformed but opened after a few violent tugs. Grabbing what he needed he turned to go back downstairs. That's when he heard something out of place. Not the ship; not the storm.

It sounded like sobbing.

* * *

Elisabeth Kubler Ross had the five stages of grief backwards. After her mother's murder Kate had been stuck on the anger stage and hadn't moved past it for nearly a year. Now with her own death bearing down, she'd vacillated between acceptance and depression. Yet anger had reappeared after her encounter with Grollet; it wouldn't loosen its grip on her after the slime ball abandoned her.

She was a strong person; the circumstances of the past year had forced her to grow up fast. Yet there was no denying that dying alone on a ship in the South Pacific was a cruel fate no matter who you were or what you'd been through. Curled up next to the door, she let the tears flow. She cried for both her mother and her father. He'd be alone now. How would he survive her loss so soon after his wife's? She cried for the life she was denied: children she'd never have; friends, like Lanie, she was leaving behind.

Her sobbing and the ship's metal shrieking covered the sound of Hina's workshop door being forced open. Precious little would have penetrated the wretched state she was in. An unexpected sound, in a place she'd thought she'd been abandoned and alone, however, served to pierce the pall of despair wrapped around her. Hiccupping, she stifled her tears and listened, keen for it to repeat. Had she imagined it? Was her desperation for rescue unleashing her imagination to conjure someone who didn't exist?

"Hello? Is someone there?"

A deep baritone launched her into a scrabbling blur as she pounded on the door and sobbed without control once more. She wasn't alone; hadn't been abandoned. Rescue was at hand.

"Help! I'm in here! Help me!"

"Kate?" Rick's unmistakable voice carried through her door.

"Rick! I thought you were dead!"

"Sorry to disappoint. Are you ok?"

"Definitely not disappointed," she replied with a shaky laugh. "I thought I'd been left behind."

There was a pause long enough for a surge of panic to flash through her. Was he really there? She let out a gasp when she heard him speak again.

"Why don't you come down to the saloon with me? We need to figure out a plan."

"I'd love to, but I can't. The door's locked." She hit it again, but it refused to yield.

"Where's the key?"

"I don't know," she huffed. "If I did, I wouldn't still be in here."

"How'd it get locked with you inside?"

"Grollet locked me in. He didn't want me taking up valuable rations."

"What? That rat bastard. He left us behind knowing we were alive."

"He told me he found you unconscious and hit you in the head. I thought he'd killed you. Guess it's good you've got a hard head."

Rick was stunned silent for a minute, before letting loose with a string of curses that included words she'd never even heard before.

"I'll kill that greasy, little jackhole, if it's the last thing I do," he finally vowed, running out of breath for any more colorful adjectives for Grollet.

"I'm totally with you here, but I'm hoping we could plan his death together."

"Huh?" He sounded confused. If she hadn't seen his wit and intelligence in action, she might've believed that her initial assessment of his mental acuity was accurate. Biting back a stinging reprimand, she reminded herself that he'd been knocked out and then struck again by the filthy worm that'd left her behind. She needed to be patient, despite the desperation of their situation.

"Get me OUT, please. I don't want to drown while you're standing there discussing Henri's mother and the family dog."

"Oh, sorry. So, no key, huh?"

Rolling her eyes, she sighed. "No. Covered that topic already. No key."

The knob rattled, but nothing happened. She shook her head, but remained silent. Hadn't it occurred to him that she'd tried to open the damn door?

"Stand back, I'm gonna hit it," he warned. Several blows later it was still stuck tight. "Well, that didn't work. I was even pretending it was Grollet's face."

She couldn't help but laugh at that.

"Hang on; let me look around for something that I can use."

"Don't leave me!" The panic in her voice was palpabe, even through a door.

"I won't, I won't. Don't worry. I'm just going to find something to help pry the door open. Ok?"

"Ok." She took some deep breaths. He wouldn't abandon her like Grollet had. She wasn't sure why she knew that, but she did.

A few minutes later she heard a noise outside her door again.

"Stand away from the door. I grabbed the fire axe and I'm gonna try to bust the door down."

She backed away, though the cabin wasn't large enough that she could completely escape. Picking up a sheet from the bed, she draped it over her head to protect herself from flying splinters.

"Ready!"

"Ok, here goes." He started pounding on the door. The first few strikes didn't pop the door open as she'd half-hoped it would. However, about five minutes later she could hear and feel wood splintering as he continued his furious assault. A few more blows and there was a sudden loud groan and the door collapsed, falling within inches of her legs. She pulled the sheet off and looked up at the entrance. Rick stood there, dirty and bleeding from various scrapes. He held the fire axe loosely in both hands and looked at her with a maniacal grin.

"Here's Johnny."

She scampered out of the cabin as soon as she'd stopped laughing. Turning to Rick, she gave him a big hug. "Thank you for rescuing me."

"No problem. I moonlight as a knight in shining armor," he rumbled, eyes gleaming at her.

"Or just the guy from The Shining," she laughed. "Either way, you definitely saved me, and I'm quite grateful."

"Just how grateful are you?" he asked with a husky voice.

"Grateful enough to realize you've got a head injury, so I'll let that remark pass. Now, what's next?"

"C'mon, let's go to the saloon," he turned and walked with careful steps down the listing hall towards the stairs. She followed, giving silent thanks that they had a chance. A small chance, granted, but far better than waiting to sink while locked in a bunk.

The saloon was empty; she'd expected it, the sight of the desolate room driving home the grim fact that it was just her and Rick left.

"They're really gone?" There'd been a filament of hope, though only nanometers thick, that she'd somehow misinterpreted Henri's declarations. That it had all been a big joke to play on the American passenger. That thread was now snapped. It'd been spun of fool's gold anyway.

He looked at her with a penetrating stare that pierced her soul.

"Gone."

Collapsing into one of the chairs, she fought to control the despair. Now was not the time for hysterics, no matter how desperate the circumstances. "You checked the bow? The boat's gone?"

He nodded. "Went as soon as I could stand and shuffle forward. They're gone, though no idea how long it's been, since I was knocked out."

"I'm not sure either," she muttered. "It seemed like hours passed after Grollet locked me in my cabin." Looking up, she reassessed his appearance. There was a visible lump on his forehead with dried blood surrounding it. "How are you feeling now?" Head injuries could be dangerous, and God knows they needed their wits about them.

"It's getting better. After I went and checked the bow, I went up to Hina's workshop and grabbed some painkillers. Lucky I did, cause that's when I found you. I'm not nauseous and haven't thrown up. Think I'll be okay."

He looked at her again with another intense look. How had she ever thought he was of below average intelligence? The man was probably the most perceptive person she'd ever met.

"I think Grollet told Tamahere that we're dead. There's no way that he'd leave without me."

"How do you know that Tamahere is alive? Maybe he died too? Or Grollet killed him?"

"I've looked around; no other bodies. And Grollet needed either Tamahere or me to navigate, as best as possible. Tane is no true sailor. So I'm sure Tamahere is ok, otherwise I'd be on that boat."

She nodded. It made sense. "I'd have been useless—just another mouth to feed, like Grollet said. Plus, he was pissed at me."

"What do you mean?"

Grimacing, she told him about the sexual advances so unwelcome the night of Anapa's accident. Rick's body tensed as she spoke, and he was up and pacing by the time she recounted the words Grollet had used after the wreck to justify his leaving her behind.

"He must have taken my key the night I escaped him to the saloon. Probably was planning to sneak into my room. But then his own stupidity interfered and Anapa was injured. He never had an opportunity to use it again, until he saw how he could improve his chances of survival."

"I swear right now that man will pay for what he's done."

Kate nodded, but now was not the time. They had to survive the wreck in order to extract any revenge.

"What do we do next? Is there another life boat or a raft on board?" She wasn't eager to get into a tiny life raft given the storm, but anything was better than sinking with a ship.

"No. There's nothing else. I'm sorry." His downcast eyes showed he wished he had better news.

Slumping down, she wanted to start crying again. Had she escaped her tiny prison for nothing? "What can we do?"

"Well, the good news is that we struck this rock hours ago, and we haven't sunk yet. I think we're stuck on it. So, it's unlikely the ship will suddenly sink. I'm hoping we can wait out the storm. With better visibility, maybe we can see something. Or be seen by another ship."

"Makes sense. Do you think it's safe to stay in the saloon? Or the bunkhouse?"

"The way the ship is tilted, I'd rather be in the saloon. The recliners aren't bad, or we could drag some of the mattresses from the bunkhouse and put them next to the door to the back deck."

Preferring to sleep lying down, they dragged two mattresses from the bunk room to the saloon. Kate made them up with some dry sheets and blankets while Rick got the life jackets out of the locker; there were four of them. He grabbed them all, just in case.

"I know these aren't comfortable to wear while lying down, but I think it would be a good idea to keep them on," he told her. She was placing some of the unspoiled fruit and bottles of water out on one of the tables for their first meal in hours.

"Have you been up to the bridge?" she asked.

"No. Not since I woke up."

"I wonder if the radio works? Or if the vantage would let us see further?" The rain had slowed a bit.

"Those are good questions." He looked at his watch. It was now supposed to be eight in the evening, so the viewpoint wouldn't help. The sun set just after six this time of year. "Let's get some food, and rest for a while. We'll climb up there for sunrise tomorrow."

She nodded and they ate in silence. Rick was beginning to feel almost normal, although a dull ache in his skull reminded him of his head injury.

After cleaning up, they used the facilities, as best they could. Kate went upstairs, as that toilet was not tilted as badly as the bunkhouse. Rick elected to pee off the side of the boat, rather than go back in the bathroom he'd been trapped in. Back in the saloon, they each rested on a mattress.

"Rick? Are you still awake?" she whispered a few minutes after lying down.

"Yeah, I'm awake," he grunted back.

"I just wanted to say thank you, and that I'm glad you're here with me."

It was silent for a minute—he must've fallen asleep after their long day. Turning, she tried to relax and do the same, but the dark night was broken by the sibilance of his whispered apology.

"I'm sorry you're here. I wish they'd taken you in the life boat, because we're facing a huge challenge. But I'm glad I'm not alone, and I'm glad that I'm here with you too."

She smiled. There were thousands of places she'd rather be, but she felt safe with Rick. She drifted to sleep without the gripping panic she'd had earlier. She was certain that morning would bring them better news. Together, they'd make it.

* * *

**In the film version of SP that runs in my head, Salesi is played by Jason Momoa (Ronon Dex on Stargate: Atlantis or as Khal Drogo on Game of Thrones).**


	14. Chapter 14: Cradled in a Broken Ship

**This chapter is dedicated to CharacterDriven. A reader pretty much from the beginning of this tale, I look forward to seeing any reviews from her. Always positive, she also will let me know if I've made a mistake or written something that doesn't sound right. Constructive criticism is what makes me better as an author, so I welcome it all. And she does it in a way that makes it a positive, not a negative experience. Thanks for all your support!**

* * *

**December 1999**

Something was wrong, though between his exhaustion and head injury he couldn't figure out what it was. He was in bed; had just woken up, though why he couldn't say. He wanted to sleep another ten hours. He didn't need to pee, and no one was shouting his name. He had a crick in his neck from the lumpy pillow, and his head was sore in a few places. Nothing that needed him to be up.

The groaning of the ship on their precarious perch brought it all back in a rush. They needed to get off the ship, though that hadn't woken him up either.

He shuddered as the ship let out another shriek. It almost seemed louder, somehow. Sitting up, he took stock. Kate was still asleep, wrapped in sheets on the mattress next to his. The angle of the list was the same. No change there. But there was no mistake—the metal grinding was louder than before. The waves weren't stronger—in fact they were less frequent. It was the silence that finally hit him. There was silence between waves. The rain had slackened off or stopped completely. They'd made it through the storm.

Looking at the luminous face of his watch, he saw it was four thirty in the morning. The sun would be up in forty five minutes. There was no light that he could see; dawn and twilight near the equator were short due to the perpendicular angle of the sun to the horizon.

Standing up, he moved the mere step to the doorway of the rear deck. There was a soft pitter patter splashing the deck, but it sounded like it was just drizzle. Nothing like what they'd lived through so far. He hoped that meant visibility had improved; that they'd be able to see well past the ship. See what they still faced.

He ignored the chilling thought that it'd be nothing but water surrounding them.

Grabbing some more water and granola, he set up a breakfast of sorts for the two of them. She looked very peaceful lying there; he hated to wake her up, but she'd be angry if he didn't include her in the day's discoveries. Not to mention if she woke up while he was up on the bridge and found herself alone again. No, he couldn't do that to her.

"Kate. Time to wake up."

She stirred, but then settled back into slumber. He decided to jostle her, but wasn't about to shake her by her shoulders. He'd seen men in the bunkhouse come up swinging when awakened that way. Instead, he used his left foot to shake her mattress as he called to her again.

"Kate. Wake up. I have breakfast."

"Wha..?" She dragged herself up to a sitting position, wiping her eyes. She was adorable in this half-sleep state. Not that he cared about that.

"Wake up, sleepyhead."

"Wha time's it?"

He looked at his watch again.

"Four forty in the morning. Sun will rise in about forty minutes."

A wide yawn split her face. "Can't I sleep until then? Geez, Rick."

"Not a morning person, huh? Well, the rain's almost stopped. We'll see some light about twenty five minutes before sunrise, and I want to go up to the bridge. Plus, we can check if the radio is working."

That got her attention. Throwing off her sheets, she stood up with far more grace than he had and moved to the table.

"I wish we had coffee."

"Yeah, well I wish we hadn't wrecked. Can't have everything."

She glared at him for a second and then gave a snort. "True enough, Rick. I just feel like I'm not awake until I've had some coffee."

"Well, unfortunately you're going to have to forgo it until we find civilization again. Maybe tomorrow we'll be able to drink a cup of coffee and forget this whole experience."

"That'd be nice." She dug into the granola, and grabbed some fruit as well.

By the time they were done eating, it was near sunrise. Without any light at all on the ship, the inky black of the sky made it seem as though they were still deep in the night. Rick couldn't see any stars or moon; it had to be cloudy, but the rain was barely noticeable. Sending up a silent plea for visibility, he led Kate up the stairs to the bridge.

She ran into his back when he froze at the top.

"What the hell, Rick?"

He didn't answer, just stared in despair at the wreck that had been the bridge. The twisting mass of the superstructure was the worst up here. The entire far side of the bridge looked as though it'd been folded over. They could still walk in to the part nearest the stairs but most of the bridge was destroyed. Including the location of the radio. There'd be no help from that quarter.

The window that had commanded a vast view during happier days was shattered; only the half nearest the stairs was visible. It was the best vantage they had, though much less than he'd hoped.

"Rick, move!" She was pushing at him, ineffectually since his mass far outweighed hers. However, he moved forward to let her in off the stairs.

"Holy shit."

His thoughts exactly. He stayed silent, taking it all in.

"Rick, where's the radio? I don't see it." She was looking at him with hope; with expectation. Which he was about to crush. Just like their ship.

He raised his hand and pointed it at the wreckage. Watched her face as she followed the direction of his arm. Her look went from hopeful to anguished as she took in the destruction.

"We're fucked," she cried. Not far from his thoughts, honestly.

He took a deep breath. Despair was paralyzing. So, there was no radio. They still were both alive and had the chance to stay that way. "Maybe. Let's see what we can find once there is enough light."

They moved to the window, eyes straining to part the darkness. As the minutes passed, it changed slowly from black to grey, subtle lightening that seemed to take forever. Finally, there was enough light to distinguish the bow from the ocean. Rick noted immediately dozens of rocky outcroppings on the portside of the ship.

Kate gasped next to him, and he reached over and gave her hand a brief squeeze. It was as if they'd sailed into a veritable rock garden in the middle of the ocean. It was still too dark to see much past the ship, but the sight of them gave him hope. "You know, with this many rocks sitting here I wouldn't be surprised to find an island or two nearby. We may be closer to being rescued than we'd thought."

She bounced next to him, posture more erect. Closing his eyes, he prayed he wasn't giving her false hope. He shouldn't have said anything before the sun was fully up and they could see. If he was wrong, she'd be devastated.

He would be too.

Within five minutes they could see the silhouette of a dark mass. He sighed in relief. Something was out there, and it was big. He couldn't judge distance given how dark it remained, but it appeared to be no more than half a mile from them. It faced east from their position, so the rising light kept the details hidden from them for the moment. It was an island. That was all that mattered for now.

Kate was trembling next to him, watching as the island emerged from its dark shadow. "You were right, there's an island. We'll be safe. Have a hot meal. And coffee, oh, how I want coffee. With a proper bed. Oh, I can't wait!" She clapped her hands together, leaning forward as if peering harder at it could make the sun come up faster. "So, which island is it?"

He shook his head. "I have no idea. Maybe when the sun is up and I can see it properly. It's too dark. I can't make out any features."

The slight rain knew it was beaten when the burning disk of the sun broke the horizon. Rick examined the island as the clouds lifted and the first real rays of the sun streaked across the sky. The light brought out details obscured by the dark slumber of the night. It was a roundish shape, as many were many islands in the South Pacific. They were the summits of gigantic submarine mountains formed by volcanic activity. The craters evolved into lagoons, and the soil was rich for growing crops.

The top of this island was crowned with lush greenery—that was a promising sign. But the heaviness in his chest and sour taste in his mouth weren't due to the vegetation. They were due the geography revealed by the rising sun: the steep walls that rose out of the sea hundreds of meters into the air. Walls that were sheer, rocky faces; unbroken by beaches or welcoming lowlands. And the entire brooding edifice was surrounded by the sharp rocks that had been the _Iriata's_ undoing. Unless there was a welcoming harbor on the other side of the island, it was almost certain to be uninhabited. Too much trouble to get past the rocks, and what for? There was nothing to land on.

"Do you see any other boats? Or houses? They'll probably notice us soon out here and send a boat to rescue us, right?" All Kate could see was the island, which to her meant people. She didn't have his knowledge that many islands in this area of the Pacific were desolate.

"Kate," he murmured. He hated to interrupt; disappoint her in yet another area of this disaster.

"I wonder how we'll get back to Papeete? I don't love the idea of another boat, but I haven't seen any planes yet. Maybe the airport's around the other side?"

"Kate," he said, voice louder.

"We'll need to find a hotel and get word to the coast guard about the guys in the lifeboat. Though maybe they've already picked them up. Just think we all might be sitting on a beach tonight and talking about…"

"KATE." He didn't want to yell, but she was getting too carried away.

She gave him a hurt look, and he felt like a jackass all over again. Especially since he was going to have to burst her happy bubble. He was the messenger of bad news and was tired of pointing out what they didn't have or what didn't work.

"What!?" She hitched her shoulders, preparing visibly for a blow. He wished he could soften it.

"Look at the island," he gestured to the east. She turned her head in that direction.

"I'm _looking_ at it. I _was_ looking at it. So?"

"Look at the walls."

"The walls?" she scoffed. What do you mean? They come up out of the sea and…and, and they rise up…and, oh." She trailed off, leaning forward to grip the console in front of them. It held her up.

"This side of the island doesn't seem to have much to offer in terms of habitable land," he explained, hoping she'd understand. He didn't want to crush all of her hope at once.

She nodded, taking a deep breath. "I see what you're saying. They seem awfully steep. Maybe it's better on the other side?"

"I don't know." He almost left it there, but he couldn't lie to her. Not now, with all they'd been through together. "This looks like a younger island—they tend to have the steepest walls. Anapa told me there are islands so new that they're too difficult to navigate safely. They're uninhabited. This might be one of them."

"Oh." She deflated again, still clutching the console.

"If there's no people, then…no one will know where we are?"

He nodded, not trusting himself to answer.

"Could we just be on the bad side?"

Nodding again, he pointed out to the water around the island. "There's a chance. But I think it's a very small one. Look at those rocks out there. There's so many, and clearly dangerous. They took us out, after all. If the island were inhabited, I'd expect to see some warning buoys. A lighthouse. Something. But there's nothing. No sign of anyone."

By now the sun's disk had cleared the horizon in full and was making its slow ascent into the heavens. The rain had been driven away and visibility seemed almost limitless. Rick looked in vain for other islands close by. But there was nothing. All their hopes lay on that one forbidding mountain.

Turning to her, he saw she was still paralyzed by the inhospitable view of their surroundings. It was time to make plans. "We need to figure out how much time we have. Let's go below, see what we're stuck on and what to expect." She didn't respond, but followed him silently as he trod back down the stairs. She was in shock, and if he kept her busy she'd have less time to be overcome with fear.

The list of the ship actually helped him to see the giant underwater rock clutching the boat so greedily. It spanned the length of three of the cargo holds; the only reason they were still above water was their positioning on top of it. They were seated like a treasure held in an outstretched palm. It would take very little tide to float them off and then down into the depths. He flinched when she touched his arm, interrupting his burgeoning panic.

"What is it?"

He took a few steps, trying to think and then whirled back to her. "I don't remember the moon phase." Such critical information, but with his head injury coupled with their lost days during the storm it was a complete blank.

"The moon? Like whether it's full or new?"

He nodded at her. Maybe she knew? Though it hadn't been of interest to him prior to his start on the _Iriata_.

"I can see you think it's important, but I don't know why," she reached out to reassure him again, even as his hope that she knew crumbled into dust.

"It's crucial that we know, but I guess we'll have to wait until tonight to see," he cursed, pacing back and forth in front of her. They'd have to assume the worst and star working right away until nightfall came and either reassured him or drove him off the ship at once.

"We need to get moving until we know tonight." She gave him a blank stare. He was doing a terrible job of explaining his thought process; she deserved better, though there was so little time. "Ok, look. We're stuck up on this rock, right? Thank goodness, because that's what kept us from sinking."

She nodded. "What does the moon have to do with that?"

"The tides are driven by the moon. You know about high tide and low tide, right?"

"Yes, more or less. High tide happens twice a day?"

"Right. But the phase of the moon also influences how high a high tide and how low a low tide falls. A high tide's at its maximum height during a full moon or a new moon. That's a spring tide. It's at its lowest height during a first and third quarter moon, called a neap tide."

"Oh. I didn't know that." He hadn't either, once upon a time. Now his hard won knowledge might mean the difference between their survival or their death.

"All navigation charts include markings that adjust for the tidal phase. Depending on the tide cycle, you can accidentally beach a boat if you're not careful. I'm worried that we're in a neap tide. When the tide height is the least variable. In other words, the height difference between high tide and low tide is the smallest."

"So, we've been stuck on this rock for several tide changes, right?" She was biting her bottom lip as she worked through the question. He wanted to kiss it better, but his actions were unlikely to be welcomed. For now.

"And if we're in a neap tide the difference between high and low tide isn't enough to move us?" She looked at him with a worried glance. But she had it right.

"Exactly. If so, we'll be in big trouble once a spring tide cycles around. Once the ship is off this rock, she'll sink like a stone. That hole ripped in her is huge."

"We have to get off of this ship," she determined. It echoed his thoughts exactly.

"Yes. The sooner the better."

"And our nearest refuge will be that island?"

He nodded, not giving voice to the fear that there was no way to get on the island, with its steep, rocky sides. "Yes."

"We better get busy."

He followed her back up to the saloon, mind whirling. They had a lot to do if they were going to survive.

* * *

Rick had Kate start sorting food and water into a pile. She was also tasked with gathering all the sheets, blankets, towels, and clothes she could find. He checked the hold, which had less water in it than he'd expected. Still, he started the bilge pumps and left them to run. Burning out their motors wouldn't matter at this point.

The next order of business was to find a boat to get them to the island. Or rather, to build one. He threw the covers off all the cargo holds, looking for the fifty-five gallon barrels. There were ten in the hold conveniently nearest the bow. Most of these held various seeds, which he moved to smaller containers. He needed empty barrels, but they couldn't afford to discard useful items. Once the barrels were empty, he moved them to the bow with the crane, which still worked, albeit with some reluctance in certain positions.

There were wooden pallets in the next cargo hold; they supported an assortment of tools for the new farm. Breaking open some of the packages, he rifled through them and took all they might need. Some of them were intended to be used with tractors, which they didn't have. He then lifted the empty pallets into the bow as well.

Next, he joined the barrels to the pallets to create a raft. Empty barrels were buoyant; the raft would float, even loaded down. Once the basic structure was completed, he caulked the barrels with some of the ship's silicone they used for repairs and then took a deep breath. They now had a crude boat, and if worst came to worst they'd at least survive the ship sinking. He'd need to use the life boat rigging to swing the raft off the ship when they launched; it was too heavy for him to manage alone.

He'd just finished admiring his work when he spotted Kate making her way across the deck on a jack line. The list of the boat still made navigating to the bow difficult, so they made sure to be as careful as possible.

"Rick, can you lift this up?" She was at the foot of the ladder and had a large sack made of sheets tied together. He leaned down and lifted it up; it was quite heavy.

"What's in here?"

"Water and food. Wow, you've been busy," she exclaimed as she climbed up the rungs and onto the bow.

Puffing out his chest, he showed her the basic plan of the raft. She made some appreciative comments before delving into the sack and handing him a bottle of water. A lunch of fruit, cheese and crackers appeared to his delight.

"I thought we'd have some lunch and then get back to work," she pointed back at the stern.

"It's a great idea," he affirmed, munching on a cracker. "I think we just scavenge as much as we can from the ship. What kinds of things do you think we need?" He'd already made a list in his head, but wanted to include her.

"Well, basics first. Food and water to last a few days. I can see trees on the island, so there are probably some fruits there. But it might take a while to find a good place to land."

"Very good point. Water is the most important thing. If we can't find fresh water we can use the barrels to make solar sills and catch rainwater if there's no fresh water source. But that'll take time. What else?"

"Well, I thought it'd be a good idea to grab some of Hina's stock and her equipment. There are a bunch of tarps around, they would definitely be helpful. If we have time and room it'd be nice to take some mattresses. And I'm not sure what's in the holds besides the chickens."

"Ah, the chickens," he grimaced. "I'd almost forgotten them. Hmm," he rubbed his short beard absently. "You know, taking some of the chickens would be a good idea. Enough to feed us, and provide eggs if we find other sources of food."

She nodded. A secure food supply would help a lot.

"There are some seeds in one hold and some saplings. We'll take as much of those as we can. The seeds are sealed in their own containers, so we'll float them behind us. There are some tools that I saw when I was emptying pallets. Things like machetes, saws, even a post hole digger. That'll be really useful. There are various chisels and hammers, all of which we can use. I haven't really looked in the last hold much, so I'll go check it out after I finish the raft."

Kate's eyes gleamed. "I saw some rope in one of the lockers when I was rummaging around for sheets. And I'll grab all the kitchen supplies I think we'll be able to use."

"Be sure you get as many knives as possible. Knives are worth their weight in gold. There was a sharpening stone in with the tools, so we'll be able to keep a edge," he added. The sharpening stone was invaluable. Dull tools were next to useless.

"Ok. All the knives I can find. Should I bring stuff out here, or make a pile in the saloon?"

"Don't bring anything heavy. But if you can bring some of it out a little at a time, it will save us trips later."

She nodded, staring at the superstructure as if she could see past the twisted metal to find all of the useful items it hid behind it.

"Ok, Kate. Be careful going back and forth. And yell if you need help."

Separating, he rushed to finish the raft while she picked her way back to the stern. They had the next twenty four hours, in his mind. Though he could hope that they'd catch a break when they saw the moon tonight. But once they finished the raft, he still had to get them to the safety of dry land. The alternative was….well, he wouldn't consider it.


	15. Chapter 15: The Island's Secret

**This chapter is dedicated to my wonderful nephews, B and J. They've grown so much since I last saw them; it's hard living so far from my original home and missing out on their childhood, but that makes the time we do spend together that much better. They won't be reading this, for many reasons, but I wanted to dedicate this to them for all they do for me.**

* * *

**December 1999**

"Okay, lower it down," he called out.

"More to the right," he yelled.

"Your other right," he chuckled. Low enough she didn't hear the laugh. He wasn't stupid.

"Careful."

"Slower, slower," he cried as she got a little overeager lowering the cargo down to him.

"Okay, great. Got it."

He grabbed the last of the chicken cages off the crane. Its occupant gave a loud squawk, unhappy with its rough handling.

"You know what? I'm trying to save your life. You'd think there'd be some gratitude."

"What?" Her voice sounded far above him. She was in the bow lowering things, while he distributed their cargo around the raft. They'd finished gathering everything late last night and spent another tense night on the ship, still wearing life jackets.

The launch of the raft had been smooth, which made him nervous that the other shoe was still to drop. One real danger was the possibility of tipping the raft: unloaded, it rode rather high in the water thanks to the ten empty barrels. He wouldn't let her on until they'd loaded enough cargo to ballast it. They were nearly done, having saved the chickens for last. Twenty eight of the forty had survived the shipwreck, but even the twelve dead wouldn't go to waste: they'd salted them and packed them into a container. That had been Kate's contribution: childhood summers spent on a relative's farm, coupled with a grandmother who believed everyone should know how to dress a chicken. Rick was impressed as he'd never learned that particular skill.

"Nothing," he shouted back at her. Unfortunately, his yelling upset the chickens, who voiced their immediate displeasure with a cacophony of squawking. It was deafening, not to mention irritating. Once the last chicken was secured, he clambered the rigging back up to the ship and collapsed on the bow deck next to where Kate was seated. She gave him a wan smile as her hands fretted with a length of rope in her lap.

"Now we just need to wait about three hours for a flowing tide to carry us to the island." He'd marked the tides with his watch for the past two days. The moon three-quarter moon that'd risen last night had justified their frantic efforts to leave the ship as soon as possible.

"Well, we've time to add the mattresses?" She'd piled some at the stern, unsure they'd be able to take them.

"Yeah, and they'll make the trip more comfortable than sitting on the slats of the pallets. How many did you get?"

"Four. They're so thin; thought it'd be ok."

He nodded, agreeing with her. He'd hoped to take them too, and had kept some space open for them. They weren't heavy and the raft could hold several hundred more pounds and still be fine.

"Ok, let's get them loaded and grab our personal stuff." He planned to bring his writing bag, all the blank paper he could find, and his pencils and pens. They'd take little room and provided him with an outlet. He had a feeling he might need one until they were finally rescued.

Two hours later they were ready. They'd wrapped the mattresses in tarps, to keep them as dry as possible, and he'd grabbed some poles and a crude set of oars he'd made out of left over wood. Now they just needed to wait for the tide shift. The raft wasn't pretty, but he was proud of all the work they'd done.

He'd added a rough outrigger to both sides for stability. With all the rocks surrounding them the extra width might be a mistake, but overturning would be disastrous. The poles extended past the outriggers, which were rigged so they could cut them away if they got stuck.

The _Iriata_ loomed over them as he waited for the best moment to cast off. He owed so much to the ship, and the family he'd formed on her. He hated that she'd been mortally wounded; wanted to think that the old gal had held on long enough for them to leave safely—a last act of heroism. She'd carry many memories into the deeps with her, along with Arenui's body.

"Goodbye old friends," he rasped, one hand touching the hull they were still tied to. "May you both rest in peace in the cradle of Tangaroa's realm. We'll never forget the sacrifices you made to keep us safe and we'll honor your memory wherever we may land."

Kate was silent, though she'd had to have overheard. He was grateful for the moment she allowed him and the respect she showed to both the crippled boat and to Arenui. He shook his grief off a few minutes later and in a hoarse voice asked, "Ready?"

"Yeah, let's go." They had no idea if they were headed into disaster or salvation, but staying put wasn't an option. Therefore, they cast their lot onto the sea.

The launch was not what most would describe smooth. Rick would have called it a disaster, except both they and the boat survived. That had to be a win, in any book. They'd had to find a rhythm, and he'd barked off tense commands that she didn't always understand. The rocks they were moving past didn't care that she had no experience; they lurked in the depths, ready to turn the slightest mistake into catastrophe.

But as things settled down and they developed some cohesion he found she was very helpful. She rowed hard, and had a good eye for submerged rocks that could puncture a barrel and spell their doom. The majority of rocks cleared after some seventy feet. They entered into a shallower lagoon, though deeper than most lagoons Rick had seen surrounding other islands in French Polynesia.

The sheer cliffs approached steadily as they were carried forward. Nearer to the looming mass, he saw there were two narrow beaches on either side of a cleft in the cliff face. There were a few coconut trees scattered along the beaches, but little else to recommend them.

"Are we aiming for one of the beaches?" Kate's voice had a distinct lack of enthusiasm. Neither appeared to be large enough to support them, and probably were submerged during high tides.

Shaking his head, he pointed at the cleft in the rock. "No, they're too small. But do you see that crack? It might lead into the interior. Let's check it out. If it's no good we'll circle around to see if there's a better spot."

"How long before the tide reverses?" He could hear the doubt in her voice. Neither wanted to be swept out to sea on this rickety raft.

"Another few hours. We've got time. We could use one of the beaches as a last resort."

With something specific to aim for, they redoubled their efforts and were soon near the opening. Rick noted some nasty looking rocks on the left side and felt his heart drop. They weren't worth the risk to try and squeeze past. However, the island was much bigger than he'd thought. Once they were close enough to hear the waves hitting the rocks, he saw that the opening was much bigger than it appeared from a distance. It was wide enough for several rafts, and appeared to be navigable from this distance.

"What do you think?" Kate's voice carried her doubt and fear. Rick couldn't blame her—they couldn't see much past the entrance. It most likely ended blindly, but his heart beat faster thinking about the possibility that it didn't.

"I think we should check it out," he enthused. "Just think, maybe it's a secret passage to the interior."

She glared at him before muttering, "Well, you're the captain. Just don't get us stuck."

He grinned at his reluctant crewwoman as she took up her oar. She'd been willing to listen to his—sometimes—crazy ideas; most of them had paid off. If the passage petered out, they'd have to row against the current. It would be hard work, but now that they'd grown used to the raft and each other it was work he was willing to risk.

Entering the mouth of the cleft they took a sharp turn left. Once they'd smoothed out and avoided the rocks, they found themselves in an even wider channel. The sun was filtered down through an overhanging canopy of vines and leaves that screened the sky far above them. It was quite beautiful, with the softer light and calmer water reminding Rick of canoeing along a tranquil river. Bird song warbled through the air, making the whole scene appear as if they were movie characters traveling through a fantastical land.

The sheer rock walls offered no relief, but as they meandered deeper down the passageway Rick noticed they were shorter. Still, there was no place to land. Shifting in place, he craned his neck as he looked all around him. Nothing so far suggested this channel offered anything beyond calmer water.

A few more turns and he saw the most interior wall became much shorter. It steadily fell off until reaching a narrowed point that appeared to be the end of the passage. It was covered in vines so thick they couldn't see the rock anymore.

"Look Kate! I think it will be low enough to climb up if we don't find a landing spot."

Kate nodded, but then pointed at the vines as they neared them. "Rick, the water keeps moving through there. I think it opens up past it."

He looked at her, raising his eyebrows. She gave a little shrug, and as one they turned and maneuvered the raft up to the vines. The curtain wasn't too thick, and with the work of a few minutes they cleared them away. Unfettered, the raft burst out onto a giant lake. Rick had stopped rowing as he stared, mouth agape at the sights.

In the distance a waterfall cascaded down the face of a steep spire of rock. The land surrounding the lake rose with varying steepness, though the entire outer border appeared to be made of the steep cliffs they'd seen from the outside. There was a profusion of trees and shrubs covering every surface except a bare strip of land surrounding the lake.

"Are we in the crater?" Kate gasped. Rick could only nod, as his eyes swept from side to side trying to take it all in at once.

"Let's head to that area," Rick said, pointing to the largest clearing. Rowing across took just a few minutes. As they approached the shore, he could see the bottom of the lake rising to a gentle slope through the crystal water. Shaking his head, he couldn't help the wide grin covering his face. He'd never imagined finding such a promising site to land this morning. They were very fortunate.

"I'm going to jump off and tie the raft to that big rock there," he said pointing to a large boulder near the shore.

The water was warm, coming up to his waist when he jumped overboard. He had the raft anchored in minutes, bobbing with the gentle waves. Wading back to the boat, he pulled it to rest, careful not to scrape the barrels roughly. The shore was a rough pebble surface; intact barrels would be invaluable for a wide variety of purposes if a quick rescue didn't materialize.

Kate jumped off to help him beach the boat and then turned without warning and gave him a hug.

"What was that for?" Not that he minded, not at all.

"For rescuing me. Getting us off the ship and safely here. Thank you. I know you've worked hard to save us, and I'm grateful. Just wanted to let you know I appreciate everything you've done."

"You've played an important role too. Can I return the hug?" He held his arms out, ready to envelop her if she let him.

"No, I think we're done," she grinned at him, showing she wasn't offended by his humor. Turning to the raft, she waved at it, "But we do need to start unloading."

"Spoilsport," he grumbled as he got to work. Removing the cargo was a much simpler task than loading had been. Kate sprang back up on the raft and handed him items that he neatly piled above the high water mark on the rocky shore. The beach was about ten feet wide before giving over to a short, wavy grass, which transitioned to a waist high grass covering most of the remaining plain. There were a few scattered trees and palms before a solid mass of trees erupted several hundred feet away.

Rick wouldn't pick this spot for a permanent shelter, but for now it was fine. They'd have plenty of time to scout around for the best location in the coming weeks. They unloaded all the cargo until only the chickens remained. As Kate handed him cage after cage, he placed them in a U shape in the short grass. With everything off the raft, they dragged it up onto the beach as far as they could.

By now it was nearly noon and the sun was beating down on them. Rick was tired and sweaty. After all the worry of the last few days, it was finally time to relax a bit.

"Before we do anything more, I want to cool off a bit. I'm going to take a quick swim," he said peeling his shirt off. He was in shorts, and while tempted, he thought better of skinny dipping. For now.

Kate glanced up as he spoke and was captivated by the sight of his naked trunk. The man had very well defined muscles, no doubt due to his life as a laborer. She was definitely a fan.

"Uh, I think I'm gonna take a walk up the shore. I'm tired of water."

"Suit yourself. See you back in half hour or so?" He waded into the lake without waiting for her answer.

* * *

"Where should we set up camp?" They'd just finished a small meal. Kate's explorations had included a walk along the shore away from the waterfall. The tree line approached but never completely encroached on the shore. She'd seen many palms with coconuts and lots of trees she couldn't identify.

"Probably best to set up here in this little meadow. As we explore the area, keep note of places that might make a better place to camp. Like good shading from the sun or better access to fruit trees."

"What about the chickens?" she gestured at the cages. "Should they stay caged in the sun like that?"

"Oops, I forgot about them." He stood and walked to the cage nearest him. "I was just going to open the cages and let them out."

"Won't they disappear? Or get eaten?"

"Nah. Chickens tend to stick fairly close to their coop, which for us are these cages. And there aren't any large predators in Polynesia."

"What about snakes?"

"Nope. Don't have them."

"Wow, I didn't know that."

"Yeah, no poisonous insects or snakes. It's truly paradise. The chickens will be fine. Oh, and this is the most important thing: the lake is mostly freshwater. I tasted it while swimming. That's a huge plus for us, and the chickens can drink whenever they want to. With all the bugs, to eat they should be pretty happy."

The first sign of trouble came about an hour later when he was building a shelter from the tarps. There wasn't time to take the wood pallets off the raft for flooring, so he laid a tarp down on the ground. Two mattresses laid out on top completed the bare necessities, so he worked on fixing poles at each end to serve as the vertical supports. Kate hadn't been paying attention, as she was inventorying their food from the ship. Her shadow falling across him made him look up. The hand on her hip and tapping foot indicated she wasn't happy about something.

"What are you doing?"

"Making a tent. Should be decent shelter for now."

"No, I mean why the two mattresses?" she huffed

"Well, there are two of us. But if you want to share, I'm totally fine with that," he replied, eyebrow raised. He almost crossed his fingers, but worried she'd notice.

"What made you think we'd be sharing a tent?"

His mouth fell open. Why wouldn't they? "We slept next to each other for the past two nights. And it's easier to make one shelter instead of two."

"Easier if you keep it simple, Rodgers. I mean, look at all these poles and ropes you've got going on here. It's a tarp. Put one pole in the front to hold it off the mattress and you're good to go. Give me my mattress; I'm not sharing your tent, no matter how fancy you make it."

Crossing his arms, he gave her a hard look. "Fine, suit yourself." He tossed her two tarps and shoved the mattress at her when she'd laid out a floor. She placed her tent about ten feet from his. Shaking his head, he kept working on his now solo tent.

She finished first and took a seat, rolling her eyes as he fussed with his pole structure. He'd fashioned it so the roof tarp had openings in both the front and the back. His was also much taller than her little shelter—an unnecessary waste of labor in her opinion.

He collapsed next to her when he finally finished. She ignored his comments about how sturdy he'd managed to make the roof.

"What's next, Robinson Crusoe?"

"We need a fire ring. I'll grab the rocks if you gather wood? And a few coconuts from the ground; doesn't matter if they're rotten as long as the husk is still attached."

Kate had no trouble finding dry, dead branches in the underbrush of the trees. Several trips back and forth and she had all the wood they'd need. Grabbing some coconuts, she walked back to their nascent camp. Rick had been busy as well: a fire ring complete with a rudimentary spit had taken shape. It was still too early for dinner, so they explored in the direction of the waterfall. Rick pointed out several different plants that he knew by sight.

"That's a Pandanus tree," he pointed at a tree with unusual roots that began well above the soil. It was medium height and covered with long, narrow leaves.

"Can we eat the fruit?" She saw numerous large, spiky looking globes hanging from the tree.

"Yes, though most people only eat them if they're desperate. This tree is really useful for its leaves. Stripped down you can weave them together and even make cloth if taken down to the fiber. The wood is useful for building too."

Near the water's edge and extending into the shallows were a bunch of green plants with leaves that looked like elephant's ears. Rick gasped when saw them and gave a short fist pump into the air.

"Yes! Those are taro plants. Really important. The root can be eaten in lots of ways. Have you heard of poi? This is what it's made from."

Kate nodded. She'd never been to Hawaii, but a friend had gone on and on about a luau she'd attended there. A sudden bounce from Rick focused her attention on him again.

"Oh, boy. See that one," he pointed at a tree covered with small, round green and brown nuts. "It's a candleberry tree."

"Can you eat them?"

"No, but if you string them together they'll burn like a torch. If you press them, you can collect the oil to burn. And the husks make a dye."

By now they'd come to the edge of the lake nearest the waterfall, which fell down a steep mountainside. It was relatively narrow, but the fall was thundering loudly enough that the noise precluded talking. It was beautiful, if you forgot you were stranded on a deserted island.

Turning around they wandered back to the camp, finding a few more plants to check out later. Rick also pointed out the lake was teeming with fish. They wouldn't starve, whatever happened.

Back at camp, Rick used dry coconut fibers shucked off the husks as tinder to start a good sized fire. He spit two of the chicken carcasses they'd preserved and they took turns roasting them. Together with the last of their fruit it made for their first hot meal in days.

Kate gave a happy sigh as she ate. The wreck and events surrounding it had been terrible, but she was so fortunate to be alive and to have Rick as a companion. His survival skills and knowledge far exceeded hers. Yet, she still felt unsettled. As the sudden realization why she was uncomfortable struck her, she turned back to her rescuer.

"Rick?"

He was tearing into his chicken with gusto and had to chew for a few minutes before answering her.

"Yes?"

"Did you see any other entrances to this island?"

He shook his head. "Nope. Just the one that brought us in. I think you're right, this is a crater."

She frowned and stopped eating, staring into the fire with an absent look. He waited for her to ask something else, but she was silent. Finally, he couldn't restrain his curiosity any longer.

"Why?"

Looking up from her plate as she pushed her fruit around, she gave him a piercing stare. "If we're inside a crater, no one will see us. How will we ever be rescued?"

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**Pics on my tumblr. **


	16. Chapter 16: A Bounty Beyond Measure

**This chapter is dedicated to my two sisters. We've spent a great week together, enjoying our families and the great outdoors. I had an absolutely great time, and look forward to being with them again next year. We live too far apart to see each other regularly, but that makes our time together even more precious.**

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**December 1999**

They couldn't agree on how to signal for help. Rick argued that they needed to fully explore the island first—maybe there was another way to the exterior. One that didn't involve so much rowing. The unladen raft was ungainly. He feared any attempt to return to the outer beaches would be difficult if not suicidal.

Kate couldn't argue that point, but the need to pursue rescue burned in her. A signal they were _here, _that they were _alive_. Otherwise, any passing ship would simply see the forbidding lump of rock and pass on by. Rick's list of all they needed to do prior to mounting an expedition back to the exterior of the island made her want to scream.

"We _have_ to plant the saplings before they die. It would be foolhardy to let them die, especially if we're going to be her for some time," he explained, wringing his hands as she rolled her eyes.

Ah, but this was the crux of their problem. He was planning for the long term. She couldn't think—couldn't imagine, couldn't _fathom_—that they'd be here long enough for mere saplings to bear fruit. _Surely_ there would be ships passing. They just needed to seethem, to _signal_ them, and all would be well.

Rick wasn't done with things he wanted to accomplish. "It'd be smart to plant crops too, get things growing as soon as possible. And explore the island in order to discover exactly what resources we have available. We need a real chicken coop; otherwise we'll never find their eggs."

His points were all sensible, and one part of her agreed that they needed to plan for the worst—that they'd be forsaken here for months, not days. But the larger part of her longed to ignore the logic and go with her heart: she wanted to be rescued, so surely one must be at hand.

"How long will that all take?" He was the survivalist of the two of them. If they could get the items on his list knocked off, then they could work on the things that would help get them _off_ the island, versus ones that would help them live _on_ it.

"I'd think a week, give or take. Depending on how extensively we explore. But there are other tasks we need to consider besides those," he gave her a sharp glance and she tensed. _More_ _tasks_? "We need to build a permanent shelter. It needs to be elevated, since we don't know about flooding. Thank God one of the tools is a post-hole digger; burying the stilts would be nearly impossible otherwise."

He motioned towards the lake, continuing, "We might need to build a way of storing water in case of drought, depending on how far from the lake we build. We have to build a toilet facility to prevent contamination, and a better kitchen. Ooh, and a calendar to keep track of how long we're here."

"None of those things sound like they have to be done immediately," Kate objected. His lack of desire to see her point about rescue was grating.

"True," he drew out. "They're still important to our survival, Kate. It's the rainy season. We're going to be stuck under these leaky tarps if we don't do something."

"You sound like we're the Swiss Family Robinson or Robinson Crusoe," she muttered.

"There are some similarities. I suppose you could be my girl Friday."

She glared at him, though it was her fault for making the analogy. Sighing, she stared at the ground, thinking. The sun had sunk below the surrounding cliffs of the island; it would be dark soon. Though night was minutes away, it was still quite warm out.

"What if we don't find any way to watch for ships or send up signals?" she burst out. "How're we ever going to get off this rock? We wouldn't need to build anything if we were rescued."

He took a second before replying, "I don't know yet, Kate. I don't have any more answers than you. Maybe we can use the two beaches we saw near the passage to leave a message. But we need a stable raft or a canoe of some sort in order to do it safely."

"I just can't imagine being stuck here without any hope of rescue," she replied, voice so low it was almost a whisper.

He grimaced. "I'm sure you have a great life to get back to, and I'm sorry this happened to you. But we have to take steps to make sure that we do survive—that we're alive when our rescue does show up."

She couldn't respond. She didn't have a great life to get back to. More the opposite. But it was _a life_. Her desperation to get off the island was hard to explain, even to herself. She was stuck here—it was a claustrophobic feeling. Her life in New York had been a nightmare for the last year, but it was something real.

The last rays of the sun had extinguished, and it was now a deep black with only the waning light of the moon and the dying fire providing illumination. The cacophony of the birds from the day had given way to the music of the night insects.

"We should get some sleep. There's a lot of work to be done and we'll need our rest. Good night, Kate."

He moved his dirty plate and utensils to the top of a barrel. Cleaning would be done in the morning when they could see what they were doing. They'd brought a full set of plates, bowls, glasses and silverware from the _Iriata_. It was a small comfort, eating off a real plate with real utensils. And it served to remind her how ridiculous their circumstances were.

Kate stood and placed her dishes with his before moving to her tent. She slipped under the walls of the tarp and discovered why Rick had taken the time to build both the front and back of his tent with high walls.

It was stifling inside, after sitting in the sun for hours. With the back enclosed, there was no way to ventilate it with the breeze. And it was too dark to try and fix it now. She'd built a heat trap.

"Kate?" His voice carried easily over the ten feet that separated them.

"What?" she snapped. She hated that he'd been right. Camping as a kid with her father in upstate New York didn't give her much skill for surviving in the tropics.

"There's plenty of room in here if you want to join me. I can only imagine how hot your tent is right now."

She almost refused. His voice was a bit too smug. But she couldn't sleep inside the tarp, and would be too exposed to sleep without it.

"I'm not sharing your mattress, if that's what you're asking."

"I'd be happy to share, though I'll help you carry yours over here if you insist," he teased.

"Fine, get over here and help me then."

Thus, she found herself sleeping next to him once again. His tent was much more comfortable, though she was loath to admit it. A rain storm swept in later that night and she didn't even notice.

What neither of them knew was that this would be the last night she'd try to sleep apart from him for many years.

Over ten years, to be exact.

* * *

They awakened with the sun, and to a landscape glittering from the drops of rain that had fallen in the night. Everything was wet, and the unhappy poultry had abandoned their open cages for the comfort of Kate's tent. A quick meal of cold chicken, accompanied by the last fruit from the ship, was spent determining the priorities as Rick saw them.

"The most important things for survival are water, shelter, fire and food. We have shelter, at least temporarily. Fire as well, though our matches will run out eventually. I can make a fire bow system later. We have food, though we'll need to gather more. As for water, we've access to the lake. It gets some saltwater into it from the channel, but it's drinkable. And the waterfall will be freshwater."

"Ok, sounds like we have the basics covered. What else?"

"We've got to build a shelter for the chickens; we don't want them in the tent with us. But first we should decide where our permanent site will be. That brings us back to exploring. We'll take the raft and explore the lake shore all the way around."

"Wait a minute," she snapped. "Didn't you tell me last night how you didn't trust the raft? That it'd be risking our lives to use it to get to the outside so we can signal someone where we are? You act like you don't even want to be rescued!" Jumping to her feet, she stalked to the water's edge, breathing heavily. It took a few minutes for her heart to slow its indignant thumping—time which Rick wisely left her alone.

"Kate," she started at his even tone coming so close to her ear. Lost in tumultuous thoughts, she hadn't heard him approach. She didn't bother to look at him, but give a brief nod to show she was listening.

"I don't trust the raft out on the ocean. The tiny waves on this lake won't upset us, I hope, but I thought we'd just row around the shoreline. If we're overturned, the beach is right there. Out in the lagoon we might not be so lucky."

She heard his footsteps walk away from her. Taking some deep breaths, she was able to consider the matter from his perspective. He was probably right about the raft, though she noted he'd not responded to her accusation about not wanting to be rescued. Turning around, she rejoined him by the cold fire ring where they'd eaten breakfast. He looked up as she neared; she reached silently for his plate, taking all they'd used to the lake to be rinsed off. He must have recognized her actions for her repentance, as neither said anything about her outburst again.

Finished with that chore, they both went foraging for wood and coconuts, preferring to take care of it now rather than later. Stumbling around in the dusk wasn't very efficient, after all.

With the campsite ready for their return, they donned their lifejackets and set out. Launching the raft was easy; by mutual agreement they headed for the waterfall first. Having walked this way the night before, they knew there were several useful plants and trees.

The waterfall's force was stronger than anticipated, and the unstable raft threatened to capsize several times. Rick's skill on the water kept them upright. Bobbing past it, the shoreline on the other side had trees growing nearly at the water's edge. Rick's voice boomed out as he pointed at plants he recognized.

"Kate, that's ulu, or breadfruit. Oh wow, this is a huge find. We're definitely never gonna starve here." Kate had to smile at his enthusiasm; she wanted to point out they'd surely be rescued long before there was a chance they'd starve. After the morning's spat, however, she kept her thoughts to herself.

"Ipu, for gourds. We can use them for containers. That's really useful," Rick muttered. Kate noticed a climbing vine with elongated gourds hanging off of it. She could see how they'd be valuable to them.

"Wow, there's even some awapuhi. It's used for shampoo," he said as he pointed out the leafy plant on the ground. The paddled close enough that he was able to jump off and grab some for her to try later.

"Hibiscus plants are quite common too," he said as he pointed out the flowering shrub to her. "We can use their shoots, and that of the breadfruit tree, to make tapa. It's like a cloth, though it takes forever to make. But Hina used Hibiscus tea for a diuretic."

He almost fell off the raft when he saw the sweet potato vine. Launching in to a soliloquy about how much the island offered; the contrast was striking. So forbidding from the outside but so accommodating to them inside.

As they crept around the far shore of the lake they saw plenty of plants and trees they could use, but no welcoming site for a permanent camp. The ground on this side sloped up steeply from the shore, and there were no open and flat areas for planting the saplings or their seed.

They'd reached the channel from the ocean by lunchtime. Landing on the same side of the shore as their current campsite seemed reasonable. It was flatter than the other side and they wanted to see how far they could climb. If they were able to see the ocean they could make a signal.

Initially, the climb was easy. However, a few hundred yards later was a different story. They resorted to using trees and shrubs for handholds, until they were confronted with a sheer wall that climbed a further twenty yards above them. Kate cursed, disappointed.

Rick carefully edged to the side until he could go no further.

"I can only see the channel. Looks like where it made that first turn." She swallowed hard as her stomach clenched. It was clear that they were going to have to make a life here for the time being. Yes, this island had saved their lives. But in the process, it was as if they'd been swallowed into the maw of its depths, disappearing from the world permanently.

"Sorry, Kate. Maybe it's better on the other side." He gave her a small grin, but she only nodded, not trusting herself to speak while feeling so bitter.

Back on shore, they shoved off again. A few minutes later, Kate had to clutch the pallet under her to keep from falling as the boat wildly gyrated. The source of the problem was her crewmate, who was jumping up and down. She might've shoved him off if she'd dared to let go.

"Rick," she was going to vomit if he didn't stop. "Rick, what the hell?"

He stopped bouncing, but from the wriggling she could see it was a struggle. Pointing forward, he gasped, "Bamboo, Kate. Bamboo. Look at it all."

A huge stand of bamboo stretched from near the shore up the hill as far as she could see. Some older: tall and thick. And a lot that was newer.

"With the Pandanus tree and bamboo, we should be able to build whatever we want. This is _so_ awesome."

No new discoveries were made during the remaining trip, but Rick wasn't discouraged. Not that much about the island could disappoint him, at this stage. He told Kate that the unexplored areas up the slopes were sure to be home to even more variety: not all plants wanted to be on the water.

Back at camp, Rick brought up his next concern. "Did you see anyplace that would do for a permanent site?"

"Not a particular spot, but I think we need to live near the tree-line, instead of out here in the open. Some shade would help a lot."

"Ok, but I don't want to be too far from the water. You know, the trees that way are a lot closer to the lake than we are here," he pointed in the direction away from the waterfall. "Maybe we should take a good look around over there and see if there's a good spot."

They found a great site within twenty minutes. Within the tree line, it was a natural clearing about twenty yards in diameter. Large candlenut trees surrounded it, providing much needed shade, and it was only fifty yards to the waterline.

"This is perfect Kate," Rick was skipping around the clearing, frowning at some of the bushes they'd need to clear one second and bouncing around the large trees the next. "We'll use bamboo to build a real shelter. It's not far from the water, and we can plant the fruit trees right out there," he pointed at the large meadow just beyond.

Kate thought it looked great as well—especially the shade. She wasn't used to the tropical sun. A wide grin lit her face as she watched him whirl around.

"It looks great. Can we move our stuff over here now? And start in on all your projects?"

"Sure, that's a really good idea," he replied, peering at the trees again. "We can use the trees to build a better temporary structure, with rope and tarps. Much sturdier than what we've got on the beach."

Returning to camp, they spent the next few hours loading everything back onto the raft, including the empty chicken cages. Rick then rowed the boat to the shore nearest their new camp while Kate caught one of the chickens and followed him over. The other chickens trailed behind her and soon everything they'd brought with them was unloaded on the beach.

Their next task was to set up the tent. Rick identified three candlenut trees positioned in a rough triangle. Running ropes between them, he tied a few of the tarps over the rope, creating a roof over a large area. He tied other tarps to the edges, to hang down as side walls, and staked two more out for the floor. Kate had taken one of the tarps to use as a shelter over the chicken crates, which she placed about halfway between their clearing and the shore.

When they both finished, they carried the mattresses up to the new shelter. Rick left three of the side walls rolled up on the roof. The new tent was much larger and airier than what they'd had before. Kate piled all the bedding and clothes in the back while Rick heaved the stones they'd gathered into a fire ring just past the trees.

They were exhausted when they finished arranging everything—so much so that they didn't even bother lighting a fire. Neither spoke more than a few words; Kate felt she might collapse on her feet. Dinner was simple: the remaining coconut. They were too tired to look for more. As they fell asleep, both were satisfied with the progress they'd made and had a vision of what their days might be like once they put in more time and effort. A different life than they'd ever led, but more comfortable than they might have imagined just days ago.

* * *

**Polynesians were great explorers and often brought useful plants and seeded islands to provide for them.**


	17. Chapter 17: Fenua Pari

**This chapter is dedicated to sKyoKun. A native of France, she has agreed to the title of "Official French expert" for this fic. Which I needed badly, as all my expertise came from Google Translate, then on to Garrae, who speaks some French. However, there is nothing quite as reassuring as a native speaker in your corner. Thanks for all the love you've shown this story. One of the greatest things about writing fanfic is "meeting" people from all over the world. I'm very glad you found this story, and by extension, me. I look forward to continuing our conversations!**

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**Huge props and laughs to CharacterDriven, who has officially published the first spin off fic from Surviving Paradise. It's set from the viewpoint of the chickens, and is quite hilarious. Go check it out! www dot fanfiction dot net/s/10480367/1/Chickens-in-Paradise-A-Tribute-to-Surviving-Paradise-by-dredit92  
**

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December, 1999

Rick was having a very pleasant dream. He knew it was a dream because he was back on the _Iriata_. They were sailing on a calm sea with a beautiful blue sky above them. He wasn't alone; he could feel the warmth of soft, female flesh resting on his chest and pushing up against his hips. He smiled and leaned down and kissed the head of his companion. She smelled delectable, somewhat like coconut. He couldn't remember feeling happier, as he lay in what appeared to be the bow of his ship with his lover.

He tightened his arms around her as she stirred; his embrace comforted her and she relaxed back into his arms. He had just started to kiss her again when the ship suddenly bucked and he was being flung into the sea. He sat up screaming just before he hit the water.

"What the hell, Rick?"

Kate was half on his mattress, half on hers. She'd been his lover in the dream. Now he was sitting up, sweating and heart racing.

"Bad dream," he gasped.

"Were you kissing me?"

"Nooo." Not on purpose anyway.

"Why is my neck wet?"

"What are you doing on my mattress?" He decided to go on the offensive. It worked, as she blushed and stood up.

"You probably pulled me over there."

"Did not."

"Great, I'm living with an eight year old," she muttered.

"We're coexisting, not living together. Though I'm more than happy to change the conditions," he suggested, waggling his eyebrows at her.

"Uff, he's also a sixteen year old. Just wonderful," she huffed, stalking out of the tent.

He sat there a few minutes more, heart still pounding from the pleasant dream turned nightmare. He'd been so busy working to keep them alive since the shipwreck that he hadn't dreamt of it; at least until now.

It was just before dawn and once again it appeared there had been a rainstorm the night before. The tarps had done a relatively good job keeping the rain out, but it was clear they needed something better soon.

Rick walked into the trees to relieve himself, then went down to the shore to wash up a bit before rejoining Kate. The birds were quite loud as the light started to build in the sky; even the chickens and two roosters were busy adding to the din. There were definitely some drawbacks to living as one with nature.

"I'm sorry about this morning. I was dreaming, had no idea you were there," he apologized.

She was busy chopping at one of the coconuts, a bit harder than was necessary. She remained silent, so he decided either he was forgiven or she was upset that she'd woken up partially on his mattress. Or a combination of the two.

"My plans today are to first dismantle the raft. We'll use the pallets to elevate the mattresses and get off the damp tarps. Then I'm going to start cutting bamboo."

She stopped chopping and finally looked up. "What do you want me to do?"

"We need more rocks for the fire pit, and if you can find any relatively long flat stones we could use it as a type of counter for prepping stuff. Also, do you remember the breadfruit trees?"

She nodded. Rick had been very excited about them.

"See if you can find any over on this side. Gather what you can, whether its coconuts or breadfruit. We need more food for today, as well as starting to make a stockpile of things."

"What about the saplings?"

"I thought we'd address them this afternoon. I think that'll be quite a bit of work for today."

With nothing but some coconut meat to serve as breakfast, Kate was quite eager to go foraging. She took a sheet with her, to act as a sack. She decided to walk along the far side of the clearing, near the tree line. They'd never fully explored it, just the edges nearest the shore.

To her surprise and delight, there were quite a few more coconut palms as well as several trees she couldn't identify. She also found some breadfruit trees and gathered some of the more likely looking specimens. One large patch of sweet potato vine made her squeal out loud and she dug up four large potatoes. Her most exciting find was several banana plants, all with ripening fruit.

With her sack essentially full, she returned to their camp site and deposited her findings on the ground next to the fire pit. Rick was still at the shore taking the raft apart. When he saw her he shouted from some help and she helped him carry the pallets up to the tent. Once they had them situated, it looked more like a house. The pallets elevated the mattresses enough that they almost resembled furniture. Kate made sure the new beds were separated enough that there wouldn't be a repeat of the morning's events.

Rick then left for the bamboo grove with several of the hatchets and two of their hand saws. Kate decided to walk towards the waterfall; she'd seen some broken rock face crumbling from the mountainside there, and hoped to find enough stones for their purposes.

They regrouped at noon. Rick had harvested close to fifty bamboo of varying sizes. He'd dragged them to the lakeshore, which was very near the grove, lashed them together, and floated them along the shoreline of the lake until he was back at the campsite.

He found Kate already there. She'd clearly been busy. There were a variety of breadfruit and coconuts, and she'd brought back some stones for the fire pit. She'd already smashed up two of the coconuts and had sliced up a few of the bananas. Since they hadn't relit the fire, there was no way to cook more chicken or prepare the breadfruit. Rick was glad he'd been eating a diet high in fruit for a while now; it had been a common option on the _Iriata_. Otherwise he had no doubt the current all fruit fare would have led to some embarrassing gastrointestinal situations.

"I found some flat rocks by the waterfall," Kate mentioned as they ate their lunch. It was hot under the tropical sun, and Rick was thinking how he needed to build some sort of shelter for meals. Most Polynesians traditionally built and used multiple dwellings. Cooking was always done in a separate structure from the one used for sleeping. The dining area need not be completely covered however. He was thinking a pergola would be easy to erect, but would provide some shade. They could train some vines to grow up the poles, for beauty and more shade. Just one more thing to add to the long list.

"Are they too big to carry back?" he asked, once his thoughts drifted away from the never-ending to-do list.

"Yes, I think so. But they look perfect for what you were talking about. They're pretty flat on one side. And I thought a larger size would be more useful than small."

"Ok, we'll go check it out after lunch. I'll make a temporary raft out of some of the bamboo."

"I was thinking about making a stew with some of the chicken and the breadfruit."

"That will probably be good. Breadfruit can be cooked in a variety of ways. But a stew takes hours and we're going to get the rocks. Maybe tomorrow?" He was glad she was trying to incorporate new things for their diet, but the problem right now was time. Specifically, their lack of it.

* * *

The rocks were perfect, and entirely too big for the two of them to carry far. He used some of the bigger bamboo lashed together to form a crude raft; they were able to bring four flat stones back in this fashion. They carried them up to the campsite to install later, then turned to the issue of the saplings.

While not a lot of variety, there were quite a few. Mostly papaya, but also some mango and lime. The decided to plant them in the higher meadow. Kate cut down the taller grass with a scythe and then gathered the grass to dry. They were going to use it to line the chicken cages for nesting material.

After she'd cleared an area, Rick would dig a hole and plant the tree. They had one five gallon bucket, which they took turns filling and watering the newly planted trees. Rick was hoping the nightly rains would continue and they wouldn't have to water them again. This got him to contemplating the benefits of a bamboo irrigation system and he was lost in thought when he realized Kate had been talking to him.

"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention. What did you say?"

She gave him a little glare. "It's pretty obvious you weren't paying attention. Dreaming of your girlfriend?"

He looked at her with a bit of heat. Her hair had been sloppily pulled back into a makeshift bun that had long ago relinquished control of many strands of her unruly hair. She was dirty and sweaty. Some of the water she'd been carrying back from the lake had slopped out on her at some point, so she was wet…in some very interesting places. She looked delicious and it took an effort to control himself. He wasn't interested in her in that way. Was he?

"Women are nothing but trouble. So, no, I was definitely not dreaming about an imaginary girlfriend. If you really want to know, I was thinking about how to use bamboo pipes for an irrigation system. Just one more job on an infinitely long list."

Kate was taken aback by the bitterness in his voice. After waking up half on his mattress this morning she'd been certain he was planning on trying to escalate their relationship. They were the only two on the island after all. She'd spent part of the morning thinking about how to keep him at arm's length without making him mad or hurting him. She owed him a lot, but she wasn't going to just give him her body as a form of payment.

However, it seemed she'd yet again assumed she knew what he was thinking only to discover she was off by miles. He continually surprised her, that was certain.

"Sorry, didn't mean to insult you," she said. His face was still tense, but he didn't snap back at her. She plowed ahead, knowing she had been unfair to him and regretting it.

"I was saying that we should have a name for the island and our campsite. It seems silly to keep calling it 'campsite'."

He brightened a little bit. Thinking of a name was energizing to him. He could think of dozens of ways to combine their names in interesting ways. "Do you have any ideas?"

"Well, I was thinking it should be Tahitian. It would be silly to name a Polynesian island something in English. Aren't islands in Tahitian called 'motus'?"

"Some are. 'Motu' means a low island, like the coral atolls of the Tuamotu chain. This island is certainly no low land. The word you're looking for is 'fenua,' which means 'high land'."

"Ok, so would we just name it Fenua? Or should it have more to it than just a single word?" she asked.

She'd wiped a hand, still wet from watering a sapling, across her dusty face, creating a trail of mud a finger width across her face. He thought it was the cutest thing he'd ever seen, until he remembered he didn't think about her in any way other than a friend. Mentally shaking himself, he set out to answer her question as best he could.

"Well, Fenua is pretty generic. We could call it Fenua Pari, which would mean the island of the high cliffs."

"That would be appropriate. Fenua Pari," she said, rolling it around on her tongue. "I like it. I think we have a name for our island."

"It does seem appropriate."

"What about for the campsite?" she wondered

"I think we could be creative. It was founded for and by the two of us, so we could name it after both of us. Riate? Kack? Katchard?"

Kate's face was hilarious; he had to laugh at her expression of disgust that got stronger the more ridiculous he got.

"Wait, those are just our first names. Don't judge until you hear our last names too," he begged. He couldn't wait to see the look on her face for some of these.

"Ok, genius. I'm waiting."

"Without judgment. That's important," he cautioned.

"Fine, but this is ridiculous," she snapped, irritated that he was getting under her skin.

"Ah, Kate, that sounds judgy."

"Judgy? Is that even a word?"

"I'm allowed to make up words."

"Says who?"

"Says all the people who buy…" he trailed off suddenly, looking furtively around.

"What people are you talking about? It's just you and me here on this island, if you haven't noticed."

"I've noticed, alright," he mumbled. He was noticing far too much of her these days.

"Can we just get on with this farce? Give me your names and let me veto all of them, then we can talk about a real name."

"Why, Kate Beckett. Such hostility! Fine, but you'll like one of these. How about Rockett?" His hopeful look was met with stony silence.

"It's perfect! Who wouldn't want a space themed home base? Get it?"

She clearly didn't get it. "I can't believe I'm living with such a non-nerd," he muttered under his breath. Or at least he thought it was under his breath. Turns out, he was wrong.

"First of all, we are NOT '_living together_'," she said, using air quotes to drive home the point that he wasn't as quiet as he thought he was. "We've been _forced_ into this. And I love space and science as much as anyone, but it's a _dumb_ name. Now, hurry up or I'll pick the name without you."

"Ok, ok. We could live at Beckers? Rodgetts? Caskett?"

Her expression became grimmer with each name until the last one.

"Caskett? Where'd you even come up with that one? It's nothing to do with your name. You're losing it."

Rick was horrified with his slip, though he tried to cover it by acting hurt.

"I guess you don't like my suggestions."

"Those are horrible. Beckers? Really? What is the word for shelter in Tahitian?"

"Um," he had to think for a bit. "I think pereora would work. It means a place of refuge."

"Pereora? I think that sounds much better than Kack. Or Beckers. And it's way more meaningful than just jamming our names together. Pereora, on Fenua Pari. I like how they sound. What do you think?"

"Well, I think you're missing out on a golden opportunity to have something named after you."

"If those are the names, then I'll gladly pass. Seriously, do you think Pereora is a good choice, or not?"

"Yes, yes. It's a solid choice, though I still think you didn't give Rockett enough consideration. Alright, let's get the last of these trees planted then head back to Pereora. I'm hungry and dirty."

They finished an hour later. Both were tired and sore from their exertions, but with a proud feeling of accomplishment as they surveyed their eventual orchard.

They made their way back to the lake shore. Rick plucked his shirt and shorts off and plunged into the refreshing water clad only in his boxers. He loved the invigorating feeling of the cool water on his overheated body. As he lazed around in water just up to his shoulders, he turned back to shore and saw Kate standing uncertainly. She hadn't shed any clothes, and while she looked like she wanted to join him in frolicking in the shallows of the lake, she was making no moves to _actually_ join him.

"The water feels great Kate," he encouraged. "You do know how to swim, right?"

"Yes, I know how to swim," she snapped.

"Then get out here. It's a perfect way to relax after all the hard work we put in today."

She didn't change her position, so he swam slightly closer.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't have a suit."

"I don't either; didn't stop me."

"No, it didn't," she mumbled. He didn't hear her. "Yes, but I'm not an exhibitionist, like you."

"Oh, come on. We're the only two here. I'm the only possible person who will see you, and believe me I've no interest in whatever might be laying beneath your clothes. I've seen it all before." He knew as he said it that it was a bald faced lie, but it seemed to galvanize her into action.

His words were reassuring on the surface; she took no time to examine why she felt hurt on a deeper level. He had no stated interest in her. Besides, a bra and panties were just as covering as a bikini, which she wouldn't hesitate to wear to a crowded beach. Why would this be any different?

Peeling off her shirt and shorts, she waded into the lake as well. She didn't notice Rick's gulp of surprise when he saw her nearly naked, and she never realized his subsequent long swim away from her was to hide his reaction to her body.

He thought she looked like a goddess, descending upon the sea from an earthly paradise. The riot of colors from the varied fauna of the island framed her lithe body as she descended into the azure waters. A goddess that held a power over his imagination that had never been duplicated.

He had no idea how he was going to continue to treat her as a mere platonic companion, now that he had a much better idea of what lay beneath her clothes. Yet he knew that he must somehow rein in his lust. She'd shown no interest in him and they had to work together if they were going to survive on this island. He just wasn't sure anymore that he _wanted_ to survive if he couldn't have a deeper relationship with her.

* * *

**Ok, you may have noticed that I changed the pic; this is a cover art version I made with them superimposed on what the island might look like from the air. I've been very remiss in updating Tumblr; it should now be updated for you. I was distracted by a tragedy that befell me during vacation: my cell phone went for a swim and drowned. I was completely cut off from all communication for 5 long days. Really hard to realize how dependent I am on the darn thing, but there it is. Anyway, we plow on with the story, and on with the pics. Enjoy!**


	18. Chapter 18: More Than Just a Camp

**This chapter is dedicated to erinn80. A vocal supporter of mine on twitter, she always has nice things to say about each update. I look forward to seeing what she thinks, and really appreciate the efforts she takes to support this fic on social media. Thanks for everything!**

* * *

December, 1999

Kate Beckett was swimming in a giant pool of the clearest water she had ever seen. There were colorful fish accompanying her, each stroke of her long arms introducing a riot of bubbles into the water surrounding her. Suddenly she sensed a presence behind her. Unsure if it was dangerous, she whipped her body around only to have her arms pinioned to her sides by a large, immovable force.

Gasping, she looked up to see eyes matching the color of the water staring intently at her beneath a mop of dark, wet hair. A neat beard covered his face; there was no denying exactly who this man was and what he wanted from her. And there was no mistaking her wishes either as she leaned in to kiss him on his lips, intending to discover if they are as soft as they appeared to be.

As their heads slanted naturally toward the other the tension of the moment built, anticipation of the kiss careening out of control. Just as mere millimeters separated them he suddenly let loose at full volume, crowing his joy of the dawning day.

"Cock-a-doodle-dooo."

Shaking her head back and forth, she tried to sink back into the moment, but each time she thought she'd done so he opened his mouth again and crowed. Loudly. She suddenly noticed he now had a beak instead of the satiny lips she'd been longing to taste. His beady eyes peering at her, he jerked his head toward her as if he was going to peck her lips with his beak in a bizarre imitation of their near kiss.

That's the moment she startled awake, heart pounding at the strange events of the dream. As she sat up, she jumped about a foot in the air when she found one of the roosters strutting past her bed.

"Good lord, it's no wonder I have the most bizarre dreams here," she muttered darkly as she got up and prepared to get started on her day.

It had been a week since they'd landed on the island. A very busy week. She'd never worked so hard in her life, and while they had accomplished a lot, there were still many more items that were vital to their long term survival.

Every morning they were roused by the dawn chorus of the island's resident birds and the roosters they'd rescued. Rick normally rose first, though Kate was never far behind him. They had fallen into a routine after a few days. Get up, get ready for the day, eat breakfast, work, eat lunch, work, swim if time before dinner, eat dinner and go to bed as night fell. Without true candles or torches yet, it was impossible to do much once the black night enveloped them. Many nights they didn't bother lighting a fire, opting for a light meal.

Rick had cut a long piece of bamboo with even septations and driven it into the ground near the fire ring. Every day he used a knife to mark another twenty four hours spent on the island. They'd been able to figure out how long they'd been gone. The journey from Papeete had started on November 24th. It was now December. Kate had grown to both love and hate the crude calendar. It allowed her to count the days until the anniversary of her mother's death. Love for the fact that she'd know the exact day. Hate for the fact that she'd know the exact day.

She slowly grew more withdrawn as the days marked on the calendar showed the approaching milestone. She knew Rick thought she was simply withdrawn due to the lack of a rescue effort. It was so much more, but she couldn't tell him. She knew it would be very difficult to hide from him when the day came. She wasn't sure anymore that she wanted to hide the whole thing from him, but she couldn't figure out how to address it, either.

Nearly every night they had also awakened to water dripping on them from a rainstorm. They were in the rainy season, the reality of which ensured plenty of freshwater, but also damp quarters. Rick had yet to start in on building a more permanent shelter for them as their priorities were taken up with other projects.

They were so busy working there was rarely time for talking about anything other than their immediate needs. Kate welcomed the mindless labor. Most of them were jobs she'd never done before, so her entire focus was on the work. It left no time for her to dwell on the loss of her parents or to imagine when or even _whether _they'd ever be rescued.

Rick was quiet most of the time as well. She wasn't sure if the enormity of the challenge daunted him, or if he was simply an introvert like her. Since he was doing most of the construction, they didn't spend a lot of time during the day in each other's company. It was hard not to notice that he seemed to avoid her during the afternoon swim. Not that this bothered her. The less personal it was between them, the more unlikely she'd have to share anything about her life before Tahiti. She wasn't sure how she would handle the one year anniversary of her mother's murder. Life was such a surreal experience right now; she didn't know if that would make it harder or easier to deal with.

After they had finished planting their saplings, they had next turned their attention to expanding the number of taro plants in the shallows near the waterfall. Rick had shown her how to divide them and soon they had tripled the number of plants. They had harvested some of the corms as well and she'd learned a few of the ways to prepare them.

Rick had continued to harvest more bamboo for various projects. The first was a proper chicken coop for their flock. They had incorporated the cages as part of the structure. The coop was built halfway to the lake and most of the chickens had settled into it without further issue. She'd lined the crates with dried grasses harvested when they'd planted the saplings. The fowl had established it as a home immediately, and a couple eggs had appeared yesterday. They were a welcome addition to their diet, as they had yet to find time to fish and their protein supply had dwindled rapidly after consuming the remainder of the chicken carcasses she'd preserved.

They'd not bothered to include a gate or door for the coop since there weren't any predators on the island. However, Kate was thinking of remedying this as several mornings she'd awoken to a rooster far too near her ears for her taste. Or worse, actually in the tent with her, as had happened this morning. Rick had included a roof for the coop, showing her how thatching worked with palm and Pandanus leaves. The chickens were far more comfortable than they were, so why they insisted on leaving their shelter and bothering her was a mystery.

Rick had then turned his attention to the next project on their list: the outhouse. He'd started by digging out a hole in a tiny clearing they found about twenty feet from the site they planned to build the shelter. It was in the direction opposite from the lake; Rick wanted no chance they'd contaminate the waters there.

They'd taken turns digging, though Rick did the majority of it, until they had a hole over five feet deep and about three and a half to four feet deep. It had been backbreaking work once past the initial three feet, but the deeper they made it the more time they'd have before being forced to abandon it for another site.

Rick had then begun erecting a framework for the outhouse while Kate started gathering and preparing Pandanus leaves for weaving. Rick had shown her the basics and she'd caught on quickly. Curing the leaves and breaking them down to the needed fibers would take a few weeks, so she gathered leaves for days to cure in the sun.

First, she collected the leaves, careful of the sharp thorns that lined the outer edge of each leaf. Since many grew near the ground, she was able to harvest a large amount within a few days.

Next, she cut away the hard thorns and boiled the leaves over the fire ring that she and Rick had reconstructed in the open area in front of their clearing, just beyond the tree line. They referred to it as their kitchen. Next to the fire ring, Rick had placed the flat stones she'd found by the waterfall. He elevated them using a framework of Pandanus trunks. It was quite sturdy, and they now had a working surface for food preparation that allowed them to stand and work comfortably.

After the leaves were boiled, she used a shell to scrape them, removing the pulpy flesh and leaving just the fiber behind. They were then dried in the sun and rolled up for a couple days, then placed back in the sun to cure. She had also gathered some young coconut palm leaves and treated them the same way. They had a lot of projects they could use the leaves on. Since it took some time for the leaves to cure, Rick had wanted to start the process as soon as possible.

She didn't spend all her time gathering and preparing leaves though. She'd volunteered for laundry duty, which was accomplished at the lake. A washer board, of sorts, had been bound together with twine by Rick. He showed her how to use a particular flowering shrub as a very primitive soap; they didn't have any other, and real soap making required lye. Lye was one compound they'd likely never have: no animal fat available, to speak of, or the appropriate hardwood trees for the ash. The plant method worked, to a degree. She followed washing by hanging their clothes to dry on a rope strung between a couple of bamboo poles in the sun in near their fire pit.

Yet another task for her, while Rick was building the frame of the outhouse, was to gather ripe coconuts. She cut the husk into several long sections using the machete. The fruit they used for meals; she was careful to save the milk as well for cooking and drinking. Some of the empty water bottles served as containers.

The husks were then placed in one of the large barrels that had served as part of the raft. They were kept at the shoreline and she had filled several of them with lake water, using their one bucket. The husks would soak in the water for several weeks; each week she planned to start a new barrel so she would know which one was which. She was going to use four barrels like this for now; eventually they would use some other method as the barrels would serve other purposes, but for now this was an important project.

Rick had explained that once the husks had soaked for several weeks, they would pound the husks with a mallet on one of the flat kitchen rocks and gather the long, stringy fibers that separated from the pulp. The fibers would then be dried in the sun and she and Rick would start twisting them together when they had spare time. This would lead to sennit, which in turn would be braided into a rope. In pre-European days, nearly all time in the South Pacific not spent on other jobs was used to make sennit. It was one of the most important items the Polynesians crafted.

She and Rick needed a large sum of rope in order to build their permanent house. They had some nylon rope from the ship, but it was of limited quantity and they were both hesitant to cut it to use on a house when it might be needed whole for something later.

Her remaining time was spent gathering food. They'd discovered the trees surrounding the plain where they'd set up their base were full of a variety of the trees they'd already discovered elsewhere. She didn't have to go far to harvest coconuts, breadfruit, bananas or even sweet potatoes. She'd confiscated the bucket they'd used to haul water to the fruit trees to serve as a basket for carrying what they needed. With the hot climate and lack of refrigeration, there was no sense in gathering more than they could eat before it spoiled.

She'd stopped mentioning her wish that Rick start building some sort of canoe or kayak. He always seemed to have a pinched look on his face when she mentioned it, and would be very curt with her. It was hard to fathom his response, since the time people would be looking for them would surely be in the next few weeks, assuming the survivors in the life boat had been rescued. If they did nothing to indicate their presence, they would probably be declared dead. If she could have built a boat alone, she would have done it. Yet Rick dragged his feet. She didn't understand him or his reluctance on the matter, and so was glad their time was consumed with work that kept them mostly apart.

* * *

Rick paused, wiping sweat from his forehead. Lord it was hot, and since they had yet to devise any sort of torches, all the labor took place by necessity during the day. He was proud of all they'd done so far. The chickens had been the first priority so they would start laying eggs where they could find them.

He'd decided an outhouse was the next priority. He didn't mind going rough, but he knew it bothered Kate, and they needed a way to manage their waste. Luckily they'd found a perfect location for it, and while digging out the hole had been a nightmare, he knew it would last them a long, long time. He ruthlessly shoved down the thought that if they weren't rescued he'd need to dig a new one in a few years.

Kate thought he was spending all his time on the framework now, but he'd been able to finish that quickly. The post-hole digger was invaluable, allowing him to bury bamboo poles in the 4 corners. Using an x-gouging technique in the poles that he'd learned from an overzealous Scout leader had allowed him to quickly cross-brace the poles. He'd used some long grasses twisted into a ropy line to tie them. They had nylon rope from the ship, but he was loath to use that for something like an outhouse.

After the frame of the outhouse was complete, he'd formed a rough sloped roof and thatched it with leaves as he'd been taught in his months amongst the islands. Split bamboo formed the floor and covered the hole. He'd built a rough seat with a square hole. With time he might refine it, but it was functional. There wasn't a ton of privacy, as he'd not taken the time to completely wall it in. However, with just the two of them, he figured it didn't matter. Certainly not to him.

He had yet to let Kate know it was essentially done. The reason for his secrecy was in front of him at the moment. He'd spent nearly all of a morning searching for just the right tree, finally finding a nice straight breadfruit tree that took the rest of the morning to fell. He'd then spent the rest of the day before their usual swim cutting the trunk into the correct length.

He had a few more days left before it would be done, but it was now obviously the beginnings of a canoe. Hollowing it out was incredibly taxing, but it was coming along. Because it was small, he would only need one outrigger. There would be two sets of paddles, but it would be perfectly safe to handle alone if he stuck to the calm lake.

Kate had been bugging him about a canoe from the first night they'd found sanctuary. She was so focused on rescue that she didn't think any other project should be attempted. He'd gotten to the point that any mention of the subject put his teeth on edge. She was right, the most likely time for rescue was in the next few weeks. However, she didn't know Tamahere like he did. He would never have left Rick behind if he'd thought he was alive.

Thus, when Rick considered the odds of a rescue party, he was pretty sure the chances were slim to none. Perhaps they'd send a recovery party at some point, looking for their bodies. But there was no urgency to looking for a dead person, and even fewer funds. Which was one reason why Rick had been dragging his feet. He was terrified if Kate realized no one was looking for them that she'd fall even deeper into the despair that seemed to grip her more firmly day by day. Taking away any hope of being found would be a crushing blow for anyone.

But….But, when he thought about it, there were two doubts that niggled at him, made him question if he was making the right decision. One, was that he was contributing to the gloom that was enveloping Kate by not giving her the possibility of rescue. He could easily fix that by building a canoe.

The second, of course, was the possibility that Tamahere had been injured and the decision to leave had been in Tane's hands, or that worm Henri. If Tamahere harbored any doubts, he would surely mount some sort of expedition to look for them.

It was mainly the first thought that had driven Rick to starting the canoe project. He couldn't let her lose all hope if he were able to provide some relief. He further justified the project by thinking about how it wouldn't hurt to be able to explore the island more thoroughly. They could fish in it, cross the lake if needed for exploration and foraging; maybe even look around the island's neighborhood to see if there were any other land masses nearby.

Yet, he'd kept Kate in the dark about the whole thing. He wasn't sure why. Though he could imagine her surprise and delight when he revealed the secret. How excited she might be; her eyes would light up and she'd give him one of those huge smiles that seemed to light up the whole world. She hadn't had any of those recently. She worked hard, and more than carried her weight, but he could tell something was bothering her. Something made her morose; more than just the lack of rescue opportunities. Something in her past. He still had no idea what had brought her to the South Pacific, what she might be escaping from. She was entirely too melancholic for it to have just been a light hearted vacation.

It was really none of his business, to be honest. And certainly nothing that really interested him. Or at least it _shouldn't_.

They just had to get along enough to build a safe life here, until by some miracle they were rescued. He wouldn't allow himself to dwell on the fact that they'd been driven far from their expected route. That deep down, he believed rescue was extremely unlikely. And that Kate might very well be the last human he ever spent time with. The fact that he looked forward to seeing her and wanted to try and cheer her up was buried even deeper. He was done with women, even if she might very well be the last person on earth, as far as his life was concerned.

* * *

April, 2010

Tamahere stretched, groaning. The pile of papers Afaitu had brought him from Hopo was nearly all deciphered and typed faithfully into his laptop. It had taken him several days this time, as Hopo was a prolific writer. Not surprising; he had little else to do and one hell of a story to tell.

Tamahere was enjoying reading it, watching it unfold. It was fascinating to see how they had banded together, survived such an unbelievable circumstance. Yet, it was difficult. He'd been a part of the story, at least at the beginning. This last chapter hit home with an especially sharp pang as he read of Hopo's fears over his own fate and the possibility he would send a rescue party.

He hadn't, of course. He'd thought them long dead. Believed the lies of a man he'd never trusted. Guilt twisted in him once more. He would do anything to atone for his role in the charade.

He had one more chapter to translate, then would upload everything to the shared folder that Afaitu had created so they could communicate while he was gone to the U.S. Afaitu's college friend, Adriana, was a computer expert. She'd been asked about creating a safe way for a scenario in which the lawyer wanted to keep client documents safe, even from a government that had a controlling interest in the one internet service provider available.

The answer had been to use a Wi-Fi connection, which Tamahere set up without any fanfare in the rental home. He'd then been told to download a program that allowed him to change the proxy server, so he could use an anonymous IP address. Coupled with another program that he bought which encrypted the files on his laptop, Afaitu's laptop and any thumb drives they used, he felt they were as safe as possible.

It wasn't perfect, but he'd seen no evidence of undue scrutiny from the government agents for weeks. He didn't want to fall into the trap of being unwary, but for the time the benefit of Afaitu having access to the files he'd deciphered outweighed the risk. If Hopo's mother were to believe them, she'd want to read the story as they knew it up till now as well.

Stretching again, he thought about how much he'd have to decipher once Afaitu got back from the U.S. Hopo was probably scribbling away at this very moment. Though, if they were successful in their bid to free him, Hopo himself could type the rest out for them. Buoyed by that thought, he resumed his seat at the laptop and started in on the last chapter.

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**Ok, my map of the Island is now up on Tumblr. **

**Continued thanks to all reading and enjoying this adventure. I really love hearing your thoughts and ideas, so keep 'em coming. Remember to read CharacterDriven's spin off fic regarding the chickens' experience. It's hilarious.**


	19. Chapter 19: A Surprise for Kate

**This chapter is dedicated to ebfiddler. Writer of some of the longest PMs and reviews I've ever had, it's been a true pleasure corresponding with her. I continue to be humbled by the incredible people who've written me after enjoying my story, and meeting people like her (and the rest of you!) is one of the best things about publishing this story. Thanks so much for the incredible discussions we've had, and I look forward to many more.**

* * *

December, 1999

He finished the canoe in the late morning three days later. Two days after he'd given in and showed Kate the finished outhouse. She hated wandering around the jungle looking for places to 'do her business' and he knew he had to stop keeping the completed structure a secret. It wasn't fair to her, and her reaction on seeing the finished product was very gratifying.

So, while one little lie—the outhouse being done—was revealed, he'd entered into another. She currently thought he'd begun harvesting bamboo in anticipation of finally starting the permanent shelter. He was pretty sure she'd forgive him when she saw the canoe. At least he _hoped_ she would.

It was not the most beautiful canoe; simple hand tools and a severe lack of time left it more than a bit rough around the edges. However, it was so much sleeker than the awkward raft they'd used to escape the _Iriata_; it looked like a dolphin compared to a tanker when he thought of the comparison.

Rough oars had been carved out of several branches from the downed tree, and he scavenged all the ripe breadfruit from it that he could find. Unfortunately, the tree had not been all that near the water, and he was going to need help dragging the finished canoe to the shore. Time to face the music.

* * *

Kate was working on leaves and coco fiber, as he'd asked of her. They needed as much rope as they could make for a variety of reasons. He found her cutting the outer thorns off of some Pandanus leaves in their 'kitchen.'

"How's it going?" Not the most brilliant conversation opener, but things weren't easy between them. He hadn't discovered why she was so remote and reserved, and hoped the canoe would spark some of the dancing life back into her eyes. He missed that Kate.

"Fine." She looked up, through her lashes, and the vision made his heart stop. Her hair was getting bleached from the sun, streaky highlights evident as she was wearing it loose today. Her skin was bronzed from the tropical rays, and she'd worked up quite a sweat while curing the leaves. He looked away for a minute, trying to remember that he had no interest in this woman. Any woman. It was becoming harder to remember his reasons why.

After regaining his equilibrium, he looked back to her. She'd resumed cutting the thorns, obviously not interested in why he was bothering her. It was hotter than he'd imagined in the open kitchen and he made a mental note to put more of a priority on the pergola and cooking shelter construction.

"Do you have some time to help me?"

She looked up again. "I thought you were cutting bamboo."

He looked a bit sheepish, squeamish with the lie, though he knew she'd be pleased with the results of his labor.

"I've been working on something else."

She threw down the shell she was using to scrape the leaves with. "I _knew_ it. You've been sneaking around here for days. Disappearing for hours and returning without any bamboo at all. I thought you said building a real shelter was the next project? I've been working hard to get all the rope you said we needed for it started, and you won't even tell me what you're up to. God, this is so frustrating!"

Before he could blink, she was stalking off towards the lake. He stood frozen for a minute. '_What the hell just happened_?' he wondered before hesitantly following.

She was standing facing the lake, shoulders hunched over, shaking. Sobbing. He approached to within a few inches, then waited. He could hear her crying now and finally reached out to grip her shoulder. He didn't know what else to do, though just being there and listening had always helped when his mother had gotten turned down for yet another role.

"Kate? I didn't mean to sneak around. I have a surprise for you."

She kept sniffing for a few more seconds before suddenly spinning and wrapping herself into his arms. He was so shocked at the contact that he automatically hugged her back as her tears dripped onto his shirt.

"I'm s-s-sorry Rick. I don't mean to be such a bitch."

"It's okay; I don't think you're a bitch."

"Y-yes you do. You never want to swim with me. You're always avoiding me."

Well, there was some truth to that. Not because he wanted to avoid her. Because he didn't want to be tempted by her.

"I'm not avoiding you Kate. I just like to swim alone." Alone with his lascivious thoughts. That had no place in their relationship. At all. Yet.

"Y-y-you don't h-hate me?"

"No! I don't hate you. I can't think of _anyone_ I'd rather be stuck with on a deserted island."

"P-promise?"

"Yes."

She slowly stopped sobbing, moving away from him in evident embarrassment for her breakdown. He ignored the fact that a part of him missed holding her in his arms.

He decided to push his luck. After all, he was pretty sure she'd be excited about the canoe.

"Kate, I want you to know if there's anything you want to talk about, I'm a pretty good listener."

She'd turned away from him, shoulders still shaking, though much less than before.

"I can't. I can't talk about it yet," she said, voice breaking slightly.

"Ok. But I'm here when you need me."

Wiping her eyes, she turned back towards him.

"You said you had a surprise?"

"Well, I kind of need your help with it. But you're gonna like it, I promise."

* * *

When they got close to the site where the canoe was waiting, Rick stopped her.

"Close your eyes."

"What? No."

"Oh, c'mon. You want to be surprised don't you?"

"You've already surprised me today when you told me that you hadn't been doing what you were supposed to be doing."

"Ok, that's a good point. But that was a bad surprise, because you yelled at me. This is a good surprise. You're gonna love it."

"Really? You've found an airplane?" she asked, one eyebrow cocked and eyes twinkling.

"No."

"A motorboat?"

"No."

"A freezer stocked with ice cream?"

"…no."

"A lifetime supply of chocolate?"

"….no."

"Well, then I don't think I'm going to be all that excited, Rick."

He could see she was still teasing, trying to lighten the mood that her crying had created.

"I'm pretty sure you will be, but if you don't want to see it, then I suppose we can go back and continue curing the leaves." He turned, pretending he was going back to Pereora.

"Alright, fine. I'll close my eyes. But I swear to God, if you let me trip on something, I'm going to be very unhappy with you."

"I promise, I'll be careful."

They were only a few yards from the canoe, but the underbrush camouflaged everything. He led her slowly forward, and to her credit she completely trusted him to walk her safely to the surprise.

When they arrived, he stopped her gently. "Ok, open your eyes!" he said, keeping his on her face to see her reaction. It was worth it.

Delight, shock, joy all flitted across her face. Then a smile that filled her face took over. He'd never seen the like before. It was that smile that he would later realize had captured him in her orbit forever. He would dedicate the rest of his life trying to get her to smile like that at him over and over. But at the time it simply struck him speechless for a moment.

"Oh, Rick! It's wonderful! You did this?"

Gulping, he found his voice. "Yeah, I've been working on it for a while. I have a confession…"

She looked at him with an eyebrow cocked, through her lashes. He gulped again. Thinking back to the day he'd first seen her and worried she was going to be the death of him. More looks like this one would do the trick.

"Imayhavefinishedtheouthouseafewdaysago," he spewed, hoping she'd be too overwhelmed by the canoe to pay much attention to his confession.

She did not. Turning toward him, she playfully slapped his shoulder, still smiling that smile.

"I'll forgive you for this surprise. Let's get it in the water!"

Rick had attached a long stick perpendicular to the bow to use as a handle for them to drag the canoe to the water. Each taking a side, they lifted the bow by the handle and started dragging it towards the lake, the oars and pieces of the outrigger safely stowed in the canoe.

It took a lot of sweat, a few curse words and the better part of an hour to achieve their goal. It was a heavy craft and the underbrush often had to be chopped away to allow them through. However, they finally won their freedom. They walked the canoe right into the lake, neither caring about their hot and sweaty clothes.

"Can we try it out?" asked Kate.

"Sure. We need to practice, and then tomorrow I was thinking we'd go explore the outer part of the island."

"Really?" she squealed.

"Really. But we have to be completely comfortable working with each other."

"Well let's get started!" she exclaimed.

He showed her how to remove the handles from the bow, storing them below the seats. He wanted to keep them to make beaching and launching the canoe a bit easier. Then he demonstrated how to attach the outrigger. Finally, they were ready to launch the craft. Rick had enough foresight to have brought their life jackets from Pereora, so after donning them he had Kate get in the canoe while he launched it from the beach. Clambering in without upsetting their balance was their first test, but he managed well. The outrigger made much more stable than the canoes he'd been in as a child.

They developed their rhythm again fairly quickly. The raft they'd taken from the _Iriata_ had been so unwieldy that for the most part they were just paddling furiously away from rocks while letting the current carry them. This canoe was like a dream compared to that experience. They were soon darting across the surface of the lake, both in sync with the other.

* * *

"Ready to head back?" Rick asked. They were on the far side of the lake, lazily paddling past the shore. Rick had been re-examining the variety of trees on this side of the lake. It would now be fairly simple to cross the lake with the canoe, so their foraging territory was now greatly expanded.

"Yeah. I think I'm going to need to work on these oar handles a bit," said Kate.

"They are a bit rough. We don't have any sand paper, but there is plenty of pumice around since this is an old volcano. I'll work on them when we get back."

As they started back across, Rick took a moment to marvel at the beauty before him. The sky was a perfect blue, with fluffy white clouds scudding across it. The contrast with the steep, dark jagged edges of the volcano that gave way to the verdant jungle, which in turn gave way to the azure waters that he was skimming across, was very dramatic. If they weren't still struggling to survive in this wilderness it would have been a relaxing sight.

Yes, the scenery was beautiful. But the woman in front of him was breathtaking. Her sun-kissed hair lay in waves, spilling down to her shoulders. Her skin had been bronzed almost as deeply as his. She was wearing a t-shirt and shorts, same as he was. The labor they'd been forced to do over the last ten days or so made her muscles quite defined. She had never been soft looking, but now that their very survival depended on their own hard labor, her body was even leaner.

It was time to stop lying to himself, Rick decided. He was more than attracted to her; any man would be. She was a gorgeous woman. And now that he'd spent so much time with her, he'd come to appreciate her deep intelligence and wit. He could sense she was still closed off from him. She held part of herself back. There was a grief that he could see in her eyes on occasion that he still didn't understand. Though in fairness he had his own secrets. But he hoped with time, as they came to trust and rely on each other for everything, that they would become true friends and perhaps much, much more.

* * *

The next morning dawned sunny and bright after a night of intermittent downpours. It almost seemed like a holiday, with no work to start in on immediately. They enjoyed a quick breakfast with fried breadfruit and eggs. A feast, compared to some days.

Part of the previous evening had been spent deciding what to bring with them. Food and water were obvious choices. There was no guarantee they'd find either outside of their freshwater lagoon. Rick decided to bring a precious piece of his paper and a pen. He wanted to be able to jot down thoughts and to draw a rough map of the outer island.

They were also carrying a colorful blanket. It could be used as a signal if they saw anyone, a quick shelter if needed, and could be used as a sack to carry loose items. Rick had brought their longest rope. He tied it in regular increments, with the very end weighted down with a rock. He was planning to use it as a way to determine the depth of the water in various places. Since it was still whole, he had been able to make ten knots every three feet or so. Finally, their large bucket was emptied and waiting. Rick had the idea that they might bring back some fish or more shells, depending on what they found.

He had wrapped the oars with some rags after the idea to use some pumice stone as a type of sanding agent failed to do more than get rid of the sharpest ridges. He planned to weave some bamboo leaves together later and use that as a wrap, but there was no time to cure the leaves. The rags worked well, he just hated to use them on oars as a long term solution.

Life jackets on, they set out. Rick could see that Kate was brimming with excitement. He hoped that she was in as good spirits when they came back.

When they reached the mouth of the channel that led to the ocean, they paused for Rick to use the rope to measure depth. The whole thing played out without touching bottom, though with a current flowing it was hard to say if that altered the angle of the rope.

Satisfied with the fact that the lake was fairly deep at this point, they entered the channel for the first time since their arrival. As the walls rose steeply around them and the light was softly filtered through the tree leaves above, it reminded Rick of a cathedral of sorts. They took their time paddling over to the cliff walls on both sides. The water was a deep blue; tasting it, Rick discovered it was quite salty, though not as much as the ocean. He took a few more rope measurements; all points were deeper than the rope.

The opening of the channel into the ocean looked as hazardous coming out as it had entering it. The jagged rocks guarding it, now on their right, would have no problem grinding up an incautious mariner. Keeping well to the left, they easily passed through the narrow opening and burst out into the bright sunlight covering the ocean.

"Stop paddling for a minute Kate," he said as they moved a few yards past the channel.

"Ok. Why?" she asked, turning around from the seat in front.

"I just want to see if it's a flowing tide or an ebbing tide," he told her. As they continued to be pulled out, he knew it was an ebbing tide.

His eyes had now adjusted to the brilliance of the full sun, and he looked around the corona of jagged rocks that had been the doom of the _Iriata_.

"Damn. She's gone." He could see no signs there had ever been a boat near the island.

"You mean the _Iriata_?" Kate asked.

"Yes. I was thinking if she was still there we could try and scavenge a few more items. She must have been lifted off the rock with the spring tide." The moon was just now starting to wane from full.

"Do you want to paddle out there and see if we can find anything?" she asked.

"Might as well. I'd like to make a circuit around the whole island, make sure we're not missing anything. It would be better to be outside of the rocks while we're paddling."

They made their way over to where they thought the _Iriata_ had been caught. It was hard to tell one rock from another, and to their disappointment there was no trace of the ship.

Next, they started making their way around the island. Rick watched the horizons around them carefully; there were some larger rock formations that cropped up here and there, but none that approached the size of the island. Certainly nothing habitable near them.

As for the island itself, he had been correct in assuming the sides rose straight from the sea. There weren't even any beaches to be seen, just water meeting rock at a near constant ninety degree angle. It was a very forbidding appearance, and if he'd not been marooned on it, he would have sworn it was uninhabitable.

He saw Kate's shoulders slumping once they'd made it halfway around the island and could see no other islands or ships in any direction.

Desperate to cheer her up, he saw a pod of dolphins playing in the lagoon surrounding the island. He tapped her on the shoulder and pointed them out. She immediately brightened and they paddled over near the pod and watched them play for a good fifteen minutes. The water here was a very clear blue and it was much shallower. Rick measured it at seven knots, which was around twenty one feet.

Continuing on, they came around to the rocks that had captured the _Iriata_ once more.

"Look at the island, Kate," Rick suddenly said, breaking the silence that had reigned for a good half hour.

"What about it?"

"Can you see the cleft where the channel lies?"

She peered at the rocky cliffs. She knew where it was, but from their position there didn't appear to be any opening at all.

"No. It looks just like the rest of the walls." She turned to look back at him again.

"That's not good, is it?" she asked.

He regarded her thoughtfully. "No, it's not. I think anyone who passes this island must think there is no way to the interior without going over the cliffs, which are too steep to invite any exploration. Because of these rocks, no one is going to want to approach too closely. At some point there must have been some Polynesians that visited; the variety of plants is too wide to have developed without help. But there's no evidence anyone ever lived there. I imagine with how tricky the entrance is to navigate that everyone gave up long ago on this island."

"So we're not going to have anyone stumble upon us while we're living in the interior, are we?"

"No; I'm not sure anyone still living even remembers that there is a way into the island, besides us of course."

"Then we'll have to make something on one of the beaches that flank the channel to show that we're here."

Rick nodded, though he was having doubts about the beaches as well. They were awfully narrow.

"Which one first?"

"Let's just head to the closest one, there," he replied, pointing to the beach on the left side of the cleft.

They reached the beach fifteen minutes later; Rick jumped out and together they managed to bring the canoe up far enough on the beach so they could get out and explore.

It was a very narrow strip of sand. There were some coconut palms that were growing right next to the cliffs, but nothing much else to offer any excitement. They were able to go from one end to the other within a half hour.

"Not much here," Rick finally said to her.

"No. Do you think we could leave a message of some sort? Like gather some rocks and make an SOS sign on the beach?"

Rick slowly shook his head, then grabbed her hand and walked her up to the cliff wall. "See this mark? How it's damp?"

"Yes," she said slowly.

"It's still wet, right? I'm pretty sure this beach is so small that the spring high tides completely cover it. Any stones we leave will be washed away."

Kate let out a frustrated huff and turned away, disappointed, but not wanting him to see how much it upset her. However, he knew she was feeling distressed and why.

"Kate," he said softly, drawing her attention. "The other beach looks bigger, at least what we've seen of it. Let's head over to it. We need to eat, so we'll make a picnic of it and see what that side of the channel has to offer, ok?"

She looked up at him then gave him that smile that he'd come to love so much.

"Ok. Thanks, Rick."

"For what?"

"For trying to keep my spirits up. I know I can be moody. I just want someone to find us so badly. I'm more than grateful for what this island has given us so far, but we have to be found eventually. And I'm terrified that if we're essentially stuck inside, that it might take a long time to find us."

"Well, we'll do whatever we can to make our presence known. Other than that, it's just a matter of time. But, can I just say that while we're waiting, we should remember to live?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, eyes showing her confusion.

"I mean I think we should remember to enjoy what life has to offer us in the here and now and not spend a lot of time worrying about what will happen and when it will happen. We're alive, Kate. There are so many things that could have happened that wouldn't have had the same outcome. The boat could have sunk quickly. We might not have been able to have had the time to build the raft. The raft might have tipped. We might never have found the channel into the island. The island might have been without freshwater or so many kinds of edible plants and fruits. Maybe I wouldn't have made it and you would have had to make it alone. So many, many things. We have to remember to celebrate what we have and not spend too much time dwelling on what we don't have. That's all."

Kate looked at him in wonder. He was right. She tended to focus on the negative of a situation very quickly. Perhaps this was the result of her trauma, the loss of her mother. Whatever the reason, she was thankful to be alive and thankful she wasn't alone.

"You're right. I'm not always the most positive person, and the end of the year is a really tough time for me. I hope you know I am really appreciative of what we have, and that I'm especially glad you're here with me. I trust you, Rick. You know what to do and you've been very patient, teaching me the skills I need to learn."

"Well, it's been a pleasure to teach you what I know. You're a fast learner."

"Thanks, Rick. Shall we?"

They shoved off of the narrow beach and made their way over to the next one. It was larger, with a few more trees and a high tide mark that didn't quite reach the cliff base, though it was fairly close to it. Finding some shade beneath the trees, they sat and ate their lunch and discussed their next steps.

"There are some loose rocks at the cliff base. We'll gather them and make a sign, though I'm afraid it won't be very big," Rick told her, munching on some coconut before drinking from one of the water bottles they'd brought with them.

"Ok. It shouldn't take long. Anything else you want to do?" Kate asked him.

"Yeah, the lagoon out here is full of fish, oysters and clams that we don't have in the freshwater lake. I'd love to go for a swim once we're done with the sign and see what we can find."

"Sounds good. And I'd like to get some bigger shells if we can. They're handy for lots of things, especially scraping leaves."

The sign came together quickly, and while Rick had his doubts that it would be visible from beyond the surrounding rocky reefs, at least Kate felt they'd done what they could to show they were there. They included an arrow that pointed at the channel opening to the left side of the beach.

The rest of the time they spent swimming around the shallow lagoon. Rick caught a few crabs and found some oysters, all of which went in the bucket with sea water to keep the crabs alive. He tried to catch a few fish as well, but had no success other than making Kate laugh at the sight of his spectacular fails.

Kate found a dozen shells to keep, some of them just because they were beautiful. The majority was to use as work tools, but she couldn't resist some of the delicately colored ones that she found. She noticed Rick seemed to want to spend more time with her; he didn't swim off like he often did when they were in the lake. She felt the trip had been a great success, even though she had realized it was unlikely a randomly passing ship was going to notice they were there.

She felt closer to Rick, she no longer had to imagine what lay outside of their interior home, and she could look forward to a dinner of crab, sweet potato and cooked taro leaves, which had a spinach-like taste when cooked. Yes, it had been a great day, and she vowed to try to keep the things that made her thankful in the front of her mind instead of shoving them to the side and sinking into depressive feelings and thoughts. Though she knew she wouldn't be able to do this last vow with January rushing towards her. But she'd try, for now.

* * *

**Thank you all again for your support and enthusiasm for this story. Our next chapter, 20, will give us our first glimpse of Martha and what she's been up to. It's one of my favorites, and I hope you all enjoy it.**


	20. Chapter 20: Lost in Manhattan

**This chapter is dedicated to wendykw. She's always encouraged me in all our correspondence. A talented writer in her own right, she's always quick to send positive thoughts my way. She's dealt with a lot in her life. We all travel through the journey of our lives with challenges, joys, tragedies and triumphs. It's who you are through the low points that really define your character. Here's to one of the best!**

* * *

April, 2010

Afaitu wearily gathered his things as the Air Tahiti Nui flight taxied to the jetway at JFK. Some sixteen hours and one layover in L.A. later, and here he was. About to embark on either a mission of great consequence, or about to fail utterly. Perhaps both.

It was fortunate that Tamahere had spent so many years ignoring the guilt money that Grollet threw at him. Afaitu could never have afforded the airfare, let alone the hotel, that they'd chosen. His law practice was successful, but success in the islands is measured by a completely different stick than in a city such as New York. Tamahere's story of a wayward pig, the one he'd used to get in the door with, had been no accident. These were the kind of cases one found on Mo'orea.

Not that Afaitu had any regrets about where he lived or what he did. He helped people, was respected in the community, and lived in an area of the world considered by many to be a paradise. A place where people all over the world wanted to visit, if only for a few days or a week.

However, he was now involved in something much, much bigger. Afaitu had never been entrapped in such a Gordian knot. He knew so many threads were dependent on his actions now. The life of Rick. The life of Kate Beckett. Perhaps the lives of Tamahere and himself. He had to succeed.

* * *

The city was overwhelming. He'd never been in such a place. It was freezing, made more dramatic by the fact that the country Afaitu hailed from never dropped below 10 degrees Celsius* in its most southerly islands, rather than due to truly cold temperatures by New York standards. It smelled. Stank, really. There were wall to wall people, like ants crawling busily on a jungle floor, only in this case the jungle was paved. There was very little evidence of nature, only the monuments men built to themselves. Enormous buildings, enormous highways, enormous bridges. Nothing of Mother Nature was left to show the human race that beauty comes from the song of a bird, not the honk of a horn. The gentle shimmer of a flower in the breeze, not the noxious odor emanating from a subway grate. He hated the place. He was a slow walking stranger, marked as a tourist without even opening his mouth.

His hotel had been chosen for two reasons: the price and its proclamation of being within walking distance to Broadway. Mostly for the price. While not cheap, it was reasonable. And comfortable enough. He wasn't here to rest in luxury. He had a job to do.

They'd not tried to phone Martha Rodgers from Tahiti, fearful of listening ears or watchful eyes that would wonder about calls from a certain lawyer in Mo'orea who happened to have Jean Dupont as a client.

However, during his layover in L.A. he'd tried unsuccessfully to reach her. There was no getting through with the numbers he'd been given by Rick. No surprise, really. Her life had been altered dramatically by events over the last ten years.

Rick had also given him the last address she'd lived at when Rick had fled New York. Afaitu had no real hope that she still lived there, but he'd tried it first, once he'd rested sufficiently to have enough wits about him to start in on the search. The suspicious people who lived there now were somewhat used to strangers asking about the famous Martha Rodger's former home, and were either unwilling or unable to give him any hints as to where she might live now. He'd expected as much.

His true plan involved finding her at work. In most people's cases that meant an office of some sort. For Martha Rodgers, it currently meant the Lyceum Theater, on 45th Street. It was just off Times Square, and was famed as the oldest continually operating, legitimate Broadway theater. She was starring in a play called Looped that had opened March 14th to rave reviews.

Plan A had been simple. He'd buy a ticket to a show, enjoy her magnificent performance, then approach her afterwards. He'd had absolutely no idea the sheer _volume_ of people that would be at the show, nor appreciated the degree of security that prevented regular people from contacting the actors. Plan A had bitten the dust three days ago.

Plan B? Well, it had gone belly up as well. He'd started staking out the theater. The shows were generally in the evening. She didn't live there. Ergo, she had to come to the theater at some point, then leave afterwards. He figured his window of opportunity would be brief, but at least there would be a chance.

Thankfully, there was a sign of encouragement from the heavens above, in the form of a marvelous store called Starbucks right across from the theater. And this marvel had free Wi-Fi! Wonders would never cease; this particular wonder had allowed him to download Rick's story to date, courtesy of Tamahere's industrious typing.

He'd spent two days ensconced in the store's warm confines, nursing a delicious concoction and watching, watching, watching. With nothing to show for it. She never appeared. Not once. Either the woman was a magician or he had missed something.

Now he was on Plan C. Born part by desperation—he only had a few more days before his return flight—and determination—he had to succeed. One of the baristas at Starbucks had noticed his intense interest in the theater on his second fruitless night. Teasing him about being a stalker, he took the opportunity to let it slip that he was a lawyer. He hinted that he needed to serve papers to one of the more minor actors in the play, but couldn't find the man's address. Spinning a yarn about an annoyed boss that would tug at anyone's heart strings, he finally discovered why he never saw any of the actors coming or going from the theater. There was another entrance, and it was on 46th street!

Which was why he found himself now shivering near the unremarkable door that the barista reassured him was for the cast. There was no warm Starbucks to comfort him during his wait on this street: a French restaurant and a parking garage flanked the door. He was relegated to stomping his feet in a vain attempt to keep blood flowing to digits that preferred warm sand. He vowed for the hundredth time that he'd never leave the South Pacific again.

Another glance at his watch showed the play had finished nearly an hour ago. He was beginning to despair once more, when a limo pulled to the curb and parked, waiting. Just like him. He moved closer to the entrance door, knowing his moment would be upon him soon.

The theater door swung open; a tall, thin man bustled through and hurried to the limo, where he stood by the door to the passenger section. A few seconds later, the door opened again and a large man sauntered out, eyes searching all about him, as Martha Rodgers followed. As she hurried to the car, Afaitu called out to her.

"Mrs. Rodgers, Mrs. Rodgers. I must talk to you."

The large man, clearly a security guard, had already fixed on him. Afaitu tried to ignore the man, and called out again to the woman who was almost to the car now, door held open by the first man.

"It's about your son."

She had now stepped into the car. At the same time the giant security guard had reached out and grabbed him by the front of his coat. He was lifted off the ground, yet all his attention was focused on the woman who'd disappeared into the depths of the car. As the door swung closed with a slam, it was though he could hear the slam of the prison doors of Nuutania clanging shut on all their hopes.

The limo drove off and Afaitu knew he was finished. He slumped, defeated. The giant's arms flexed and he knew he was about to be hurled bodily away. It didn't matter what happened now. He had failed.

"Wait, Davis. Put him against the wall. I want to talk to him."

Afaitu was thrust against the brick wall. The man who'd held the door for Mrs. Rodgers approached. There was nowhere to go; the giant Davis was essentially holding him in place, and any passersby that looked to help changed their mind once they took a closer glance at the humongous bodyguard.

Studying the other man, Afaitu noticed he seemed about Mrs. Rodgers age. He knew she wasn't currently married, at least according to Wikipedia, but he could be a boyfriend. Or manager. He had sharp, aquiline features and seemed to have a scowl permanently affixed to his face. Though the current circumstances might have influenced his mood. Afaitu sure wasn't feeling very optimistic at the moment.

"Why are you bothering Mrs. Rodgers?"

Afaitu hesitated. He didn't know either of these men; the plan had always centered on Rick's mom. Could he trust them? Should he?

"For a stalker, you sure picked a strange way of getting her attention. Mentioning her son was a stupid idea," the older man spit. Davis, the giant, remained silent. Afaitu wasn't convinced the man could speak.

"I'm not a stalker. I came a long way to talk to her, but I've not been able to get a message to her. I was just trying to tell her something important."

The other man looked at him speculatively. "Where did you come from?"

Hesitating again, Afaitu looked at him pleadingly. "How can I know if I can trust you? Please, this is very important. I can assure you Mrs. Rodgers will want to hear the message."

"You can trust me. I'm her manager. I'm involved in all aspects of her life."

"Sir, this is a very delicate matter. The very lives of several people are in my hands. I cannot give the information to anyone but Mrs. Rodgers."

"Her son is dead. Everyone knows that story. It's been ten years, for God's sake. Almost no one brings it up anymore, drags open that wound, yet here you are stirring it all up. There's nothing you could tell her that will bring her son back, but you're begging for an audience that will leave her emotionally drained once again?" His eyes flashed, grief visible. "I won't let you. I don't know who you are or what purpose you think this all serves, but I will _not _let you bring this up and devastate us all over again. Now, don't let me see you near her any more or I won't have Davis here treat you so gently next time."

The other man turned to go and Afaitu knew there were no more options. All was lost if he remained silent. A tiny chance was better than nothing.

"Sir, you don't understand. Her son is alive."

These words froze the manager. He remained with his back to Afaitu, then slowly turned to face him again. Afaitu could not read the expression on his face; hoping this was a good sign, he continued.

"He is alive; I have brought a message from him that will prove I speak the truth."

"And why is he not here in person? Why has he been hidden all these years?"

"Yes, yes, I can explain that. At least what I know. Believe me, there is a very good reason for it. And _please_ also believe me when I say it is the most delicate matter you can imagine. His life, and the life of another hang in the balance."

At these words, the other man visibly trembled. "There's more to this than just her son?"

"Yes, but this is not the time or place to be discussing these matters. There are forces arrayed that would act very negatively against our interests, if they were to know the truth. Please, I beg you; let me present my information to Mrs. Rodgers. She will confirm I speak the truth, I assure you."

The other man stared at him, taking his measure. Giving a sigh, he gestured to Davis, who promptly backed away and started looking menacingly at the other pedestrians.

"Ok, Mr….."

"Tutomo," Afaitu supplied.

"Mr. Tutomo," the manager said, slowly rolling the name over his tongue. "A strange name, for a strange man, with a very strange request. I'll take you to Mrs. Rodgers. But I have to warn you, if this is some elaborate joke or prank, you'll wish you'd never shown up here tonight."

"It is no joke, sir. You will not regret this."

* * *

The car ride was silent, surreal. Afaitu wasn't used to the artificial glare that emanated from the city at night. The harsh lights hurt his eyes, and the lurid ads that jockeyed for attention gave him a headache. He sat back, trying to relax as best he could while sitting next to the bodyguard, Davis. Praying that Martha Rodgers would give him at least enough time to present the message from her son and read it. Not at all sure what to do if she was as hostile as these men had been. Never, in the planning of this mission, had he considered that she might refuse to see someone claiming her son was alive. He felt the specter of failure growing closer and tensed his shoulders, vowing to do whatever it took to get her to listen to him.

Pulling up to a handsome brownstone, Afaitu had no idea where they were or how he'd find his way back to his hotel. He just knew that the next ten minutes (hopefully more) would be one of the turning points of this story, however it would ultimately be written. A tragedy? Comedy? Drama? Horror?

The manager led him up the stairs to the front door, while Davis remained behind. He probably had some gargoyles to try and emulate, or something similar. Unlocking the front door with his own key, the manager led him inside. The house was beautiful: elegantly decorated, though it was apparent even to an island boy like him that the pieces were incredibly expensive. It was welcoming and tasteful.

He was led to a room that he supposed was called a parlor. There were opposing couches and a few armchairs grouped together around an elegant low table. He sat down to think in one of the chairs while the manager, whose name he'd still not learned, excused himself to go find Mrs. Rodgers. Retrieving the papers he needed to present, he waited, lost in thought. Five minutes later, he could hear the sounds of an argument as the other two approached. He stood expectantly, waiting...hoping.

"I don't want to hear what he says! I don't want to go through all this again," exclaimed a female voice. Having just seen her in the play, Afaitu knew it belonged to Martha Rodgers.

"Just five minutes, Martha. Surely that's not too much to bear?"

"Why are you doing this? You know how much his death has grieved me. Nothing this man has to say will change the fact that my son is dead. You, yourself, told me I had to let him rest in peace, and start living my life again," she cried.

"I know, Martha, I know. And I was right, at that time. But, what if this man could give you some information about Richard? Isn't it worth the risk? To know something?"

"I don't understand why you're so sure he _knows_ something. The play has been open under a month, we're having great success so far—they're even talking about another Tony nomination! And now this man is threatening everything. I can't bear to think of him, dead out there somewhere, not knowing where. It will be _devastating_ to crash down from yet another false alarm. Nothing has ever panned out; you know that, as well as I do."

"I know, I know," soothed the man's voice. "I just think we should listen to what he says. He claims he won't talk to anyone but you, says it's a matter of life and death."

"Of course he does! That's how these people try to get your attention. Really, I can't believe you fell for this. _You,_ of all people."

Afaitu could hear that she was about to turn around and leave. He strode to the opening of the door; it looked out into a hall, where he could see the manager and the actress facing each other about three meters away. The red head looked quite angry. Gathering his courage, he cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the other two.

"Mrs. Rodgers, please. I promise you will not regret this audience. I beg you." He injected all of the sincerity and desperation he possessed, pleading with his eyes, his words, his entire being.

She stared at him, tears visibly tracking down her face. Abruptly, she shook off her manager's hand on her shoulder and stalked toward the parlor.

"Fine," she bit out. "I'll give you two minutes; you've already upset me, so I suppose I can give you that much time. After that, you'll leave quietly, do you understand?" She'd come to a stop next to him. Afaitu could see the command in her eyes, the incalculable grief that she carried. He simply nodded, turned to allow her to pass and followed. The manager shuffled forward after them.

* * *

She'd sat down on one of the couches. Perched on the edge, looking like a fragile bird ready for flight at the first threat.

"I need a drink." She gestured imperiously at her manager who blanched, but obeyed. Clinking some bottles in the corner, he handed her a neat glass of amber liquid. It shook noticeably as he gave it to her. The shaking did not stop when she accepted it.

Afaitu returned to his chair; his careful words would have to be abandoned. She was in no state to hear anything he said. He had to hope that Rick's words were enough.

Taking a small envelope, he opened it, withdrawing the single sheet of paper.

"Mrs. Rodgers, your son wrote this and asked me to give it to you."

He handed it to her even as she harrumphed into her drink and cast a glare at her manager, who had taken a seat on the couch opposite hers. She did, however, take the paper and Afaitu found himself praying as she deigned to read the words.

He followed her eyes as she skimmed the words, registered the shock on her face, and the tears that started pouring from her eyes. She looked up after reading it a second time and opened her mouth, but no words carried forth. Her manager stood and moved to her side, pulling her into an embrace and deeper onto the couch at the same time.

"What is it Martha? What does it say?" he soothed, rocking her slightly. Afaitu now noticed a wedding ring on the man's left hand that he'd missed until now. Perhaps they were married? Either way, they seemed quite close.

She'd clutched the paper to her chest, a death grip on the fragile piece.

"He's alive. He's alive," was all she could say. It was all she needed to say. Afaitu slumped back in his chair. She knew the truth. They were saved.

* * *

She only sobbed for a few minutes; there was a strength in her that Afaitu admired, and once she'd recovered from the initial shock she dried her eyes and sat up, looking demanding and furious at the same time.

"Where is he? Why has he been gone so long? Why did he let me spend ten years—ten years!—believing him dead? Why now, for God's sake, why now?"

Afaitu bowed his head. He'd briefly read the message when Rick gave it to him. It begged her to listen to the man bearing it and mentioned a few items from their past that only she and her son would share knowledge of. It was meant to confirm he was alive, not to explain the whole mess. This was Afaitu's next job.

"I do not have to tell you again the story from ten years ago. The ship that left with six aboard, and the three that were later found. We were told how the others were all dead at sea. The wreck was never found and no trace of the ones lost ever found."

Both Martha and her manager nodded.

"I flew to Papeete as soon as I was informed," she said hoarsely. "I offered a reward for his body or the site of the wreck, but no one brought forward anything. The one survivor, Grollet was his name, told me he'd keep looking. I had to leave eventually, but came back several times. Grollet always met me at the airport with sad eyes. I knew each time, before he said anything, that my journey had been for naught. He was so kind to me, and finally I had to stop my trips. I was caught in a cycle of hopelessness, unable to move forward."

She clutched her manager's hand, taking strength from the man's presence.

"Grollet promised me he'd let me know if anything happened, and every year he sends me a lovely card to let me know he's still got my son on his mind." She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief her manager had given her earlier. "I believe he's become President of French Polynesia?"

Afaitu nodded, unable to trust any words he might say.

"I can see why. He was such a hero, the way he rescued those two other men. But I don't understand. He said my son was dead, yet I have a letter from Richard and you're sitting here telling me he is alive. Where has he been?"

"Ma'am, I can answer some of your questions. Your son's story, nonetheless, is his own; he has started writing it for me, and I have the initial chapters for you to read. This can wait for now, however, as I must explain the danger he is in and the urgency of this mission."

Both of them nodded, allowing him to continue.

"Three, almost four, months ago, a man was found drifting on a disintegrating little boat. He was injured, unresponsive, and near death from dehydration and starvation. The men of the ship that found him were able to stabilize him and brought him to Papeete. When he regained consciousness, he initially had no memory. However, a week later during an interview, he declared he was none other than Richard Rodgers."

Martha gasped, clasping her hand to her mouth. When she remained silent, he kept going.

"A scandal erupted immediately with the publication of the article. Within days, the man, now healthy enough to be discharged from the hospital, was arrested and charged with multiple offenses, including fraud. He pled guilty; he was given the name Jean Dupont, which is essentially John Doe in French. He had no papers, no passport, nothing that gave him an identity and he provided no other names to be used."

He paused, but the other two were still raptly paying attention. He wished briefly for something to drink, but the need to tell the story overrode his comfort.

"French Polynesia is quite limited in our ability to conduct investigations; his fingerprints were checked within the known criminals of Tahiti, but when they returned without a match, the matter was dropped. He had a very rapid trial; the government claimed it wanted to ensure no one else tried to falsely claim the large reward still waiting for information leading to your son. He said nothing in his defense, would not participate in the trial in any measurable fashion. He was quickly convicted; both in the courts and in the minds of the people. He was sentenced to life in prison and sent to the only facility in French Polynesia, Nuutania. It is a notorious institution, very overcrowded. It is there that I first met him, some two weeks ago. This man, this Jean Dupont, is in fact who he originally claimed to be. He is your son."

Martha gave a soft moan, hand clutched to her mouth. Afaitu waited a moment, as he could see she recognized his story and had something to say. His patience was rewarded a few seconds later when she gathered herself visibly back together and spoke.

"I saw a vague mention of this months ago when he was found. One of Monsieur Grollet's aides called me and said the man was a treasure seeker, looking for the reward. He said he had no resemblance to Richard." Tears were spilling down her cheeks again.

"How did you get involved, Mr. Tutomo?" the manager asked.

"I was approached by a man named Tamahere. He is one of the survivors of the wreck ten years ago."

A sharply indrawn breath told him Martha Rodgers recognized the name.

"Tamahere was living in seclusion on a more remote island, and by chance saw a picture of the prisoner, Dupont, and an article about the trial. He recognized the man immediately as his former shipmate, thought dead all these years. Fortunately, he realized the delicacy of the situation, and ultimately approached me for help. I was able to be named as Dupont's lawyer and have been gathering his story ever since."

"I don't understand. If this man is Richard, why would he plead guilty to charges that he is not Richard? It makes no sense! Why would Grollet's people tell me he is not my son? Why would he go to jail instead of insisting on the truth?"

"Mrs. Rodgers, that is a question that I can only partially answer. The government, Grollet in effect, desires your son's story never come to light. He is a threat to Grollet and the incredible lies he spun all those years ago. Rick has cooperated because there is more at stake than just his life."

"More?" the word was strangled. And oddly it came from Martha's manager. Husband?

"Yes, Rick is terrified he'll be killed unless he cooperates. He's been threatened. He did not survive these years alone. And if he dies, he cannot rescue her. It is his greatest fear."

The other two were now clutching each other, both equally affected. Afaitu was puzzled by the evident emotion in the other man, but if he was Martha's husband perhaps he was as anxious about Rick as she.

"Her? Who was with him all these years?" Martha finally asked. Curiously, she seemed to be the one supporting her manager as they waited for Afaitu to answer.

"Her name is Kate Beckett. She was a passenger…" he trailed off as the man collapsed, his head on his knees and great wracking sobs shuddering through his body as Martha patted his back in a vain attempt to comfort him.

"Oh, Jim. They're alive. After all these years, they're alive."

* * *

*50 degrees Farenheit for my fellow Americans

**Looped is a Broadway play that did indeed premiere on the date I mentioned. It is a story about Tallulah Bankhead, and starred Valerie Harper, who did receive a Tony nomination for her role. The Lyceum Theater is also as described. The information about the stage door comes from a website called stagescape dot net. I've added pics of the theater, it's stage entrance and a promotional poster for Looped to Tumblr.**


	21. Chapter 21: Jim and Martha

**This chapter is dedicated to caffinate-me. There is no greater compliment than having someone you look up to with admiration and respect for their skills in writing tell you that they like what you're doing. Author of some of the most phenomenal A/U works this fandom has ever seen, I am incredibly honored that this story has caught her interest. Thank you so much for your encouragement and kind words.**

**Several authors that I really admire have encouraged me over this little tale that we've embarked on, and I still pinch myself that I've written anything good enough to capture their imagination. Thank you all!**

* * *

April, 2010

Afaitu watched, uncomfortable, as the two older people cried. Joyous tears, to be sure—but why were they both so affected by his news of Kate Beckett being alive? He was confused, as they both seemed to know her somehow. Yet, Rick's story had made it clear that neither he nor Kate had known each other prior to meeting in Papeete. Confident he'd learn more once they calmed down, he simply waited.

It was nearly ten minutes and several more handkerchiefs before they were ready to talk.

"Mr. Tutomo, you must think us excessively maudlin," Martha remarked as she dried her eyes once more.

"Far from it, Mrs. Rodgers. You've thought your son dead for ten years, only to find he is not only alive, but in prison. I would have been shocked if you hadn't cried. Tears of happiness, I imagine."

"Yes, but there's something you don't know." She reached over and hugged her manager, Jim, again. "This is Katie Beckett's father."

Afaitu felt as though he'd been struck by a bolt of lightning in a South Pacific storm. He'd not planned on seeking out any of Kate's relatives, fearful they would rush to Tahiti and send an obvious signal to those in charge she was still alive. He closed his eyes and threw his head back in anguish; must all of their careful planning come undone so quickly?

Taking a minute to regroup, he opened his eyes to see the other two staring at him with concern.

"You've mentioned Richard several times, but there has been no mention of Katie. Have you spoken to her? Where is she? Why did the news not mention her on the raft as well?" Jim Beckett's interrogation was pointed. He wanted answers.

"She was not with him."

"Not with him," gasped Martha. She clutched her latest handkerchief to her lips. "Where is she?"

"Only Rick knows. Well, he doesn't know exactly. He's confident he can find it again." He was confusing them more. It was confusing to him.

"Look, I've met with Rick twice at the prison. Lawyers are granted special dispensation to see their clients, but even that is limited. I had him start telling me his story on my initial visit; he typed out two chapters. However, there was no way we'd finish that way. So, since he has nothing else to do, I have him writing it out on paper. I collect it and Tamahere types it into the laptop and uploads it to a shared file."

"How does this help us find Katie? When did he last see her? Why can't we start searching without him?" Her father was understandably upset.

"Sir, please, I can assure you the story answers some of those very questions. Please, do you think you could read what we have so far and then we can talk about what we do and don't know? It will be much easier if you understand as much about their beginning as I."

Jim stared at him. The man was nothing if not intense, but he finally relented.

"Fine, we'll read the story. But, please, tell me when he last saw Katie."

Afaitu swallowed. This would be distressing no matter how he phrased it. Deciding on the direct approach, he told the truth. "He told me it was about four months ago."

Jim closed his eyes; it was more than he'd ever allowed himself to hope, but anything could have happened since she'd last been seen. Not knowing what they had been doing, _where_ they had been. It was frustrating.

"May I start reading?" Martha asked. She was dying to know more about her son.

"Yes, though it is on a file on my laptop. Do you want to read together, or could I print it off somewhere?"

"Why not just email it to me? I can read it on my laptop or my phone."

Afaitu smiled wanly at the other man. "It is encrypted. I have spent a lot of time and effort in keeping this story safe, and I'm not willing to lower my standards now that we are so close to realizing success."

"You're right; I don't understand this need for security, but I assume I will after I read what you have here?"

Afaitu nodded at the man. Jim then led him to an office and helped him print off two copies of the story. Afaitu stressed the need to shred the copies afterwards, though Jim seemed a bit doubtful about this level of paranoia.

"Mr. Tutomo, before we begin, I'd like to enquire as to where you are staying," Martha asked when they returned.

"Mrs. Rodgers, please, call me Afaitu. In the South Pacific we are rarely so formal, and I am more comfortable with the use of my first name."

"Yes, darling. Please call me Martha. And this is Jim, as you know. He has been my manager for many years now."

Afaitu told them his hotel name. Martha sent him to the kitchen, where an assistant had prepared a light repast. He was starving, having skipped dinner to watch the stage door. While he ate, the others read. He rejoined them in the parlor and settled into his chair once more. It was going to be a long night, but for the first time since he'd arrived he felt hopeful. He would have to manage Jim's desire to find his daughter, but the man had a razor sharp mind. Surely he would see the folly of haste?

* * *

Martha was a vocal reader. He could tell where she was based on her reactions to the story. Jim read with a stoic face. He was all lawyer, reading each page rapidly, but thoroughly. He finished well before Martha and excused himself from the room.

When he returned twenty minutes later, Martha had finished.

"Did you call Celeste?" she asked Jim.

"Yes. I have a feeling I'm going to be here for a while. Didn't want her to worry."

"Celeste is his wife," Martha explained to Afaitu. "She was my assistant for years, until Jim swept her away from me." She smiled at her friend, teasing him gently. Theirs seemed to be a very comfortable friendship.

Afaitu was concerned. The fewer people who knew, the safer they were. His worry must have been evident, as Jim sighed deeply as he sat down again.

"I didn't tell her why. How do you explain something like this over the phone? But she knew I was upset. I'll need to tell her something. She's my wife. She deserves to know."

"You understand the danger if they find her first?" Afaitu asked. He was certain that Jim wished no harm to come to his daughter, inadvertent as it might be, but Jim didn't know Grollet, or the desperation that Kate's appearance would induce.

"I think so. What do you think they'd do? If they found her?"

Afaitu gave him an earnest look. He would hold nothing back; it was the least he could do after nearly messing this whole journey up beyond repair.

"They will not hesitate to kill her."

Martha gasped, "Surely not. What on earth do you mean by that?"

"Mrs. Rodgers…Martha…, Henri Grollet became what he is solely due to the lies he told about what happened ten years ago. As you've read, he purposefully lied to Tamahere, perhaps Tane as well, about your son and your daughter," he glanced at Jim, including him in the conversation. He _had_ to transfer the desperation Rick exuded across to the two of them.

"Grollet was celebrated, a national hero. You lauded him yourself, Martha, just an hour or two ago. He entered politics, and benefited from a scandal involving the ruling party at that time. He came across as an honest man, wanting to eliminate corruption—everything the other party was not. The perception of his character was entirely taken from the rescue of the castaways, in which he painted himself as the hero. Now, he is President of French Polynesia. The power, the wealth that comes with such a position is unimaginable. Do you really doubt he would hesitate to employ any means necessary to maintain it? I hope for your children's sake that you harbor no hesitation on this point. We must move with extreme caution. Kate's life depends on it. Rick's as well."

Jim and Martha stared at him for a minute, then they both nodded.

"Perhaps it is best if we all get some sleep? It will give you time to accept the news, what has happened. Do you have any free time tomorrow, or should I say later today?" It was already past midnight. They were all emotionally and physically exhausted.

"The theater is closed tomorrow, it is our day off. Could we meet here again, say at ten a.m.?" Martha asked.

Jim nodded curtly and Afaitu started gathering his things.

"Afaitu, I'll have my assistant call a cab for you."

"Martha, there's no need. I'll take him. It's not far out of my way."

"Are you sure, Jim?"

"Yes."

The two men made their goodbyes, and Afaitu soon found himself in the midst of another silent car ride. Jim was agitated, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and muttering to himself when other drivers did things he thought they shouldn't.

Afaitu was about to ask what was bothering the other man, when Jim's dam suddenly burst.

"You weren't planning on telling me, were you? About Katie. If I hadn't been with Martha, I wouldn't know."

Taking a steadying breath, Afaitu admitted the truth. "No."

"Why not? My daughter wasn't famous, so she doesn't deserve the same treatment?" he snapped.

"Certainly not, sir! Richard Castle is a name known in the islands mainly as the pen name of a man called Richard Rodgers, who disappeared in a shipwreck. He's not famous as an author to most people. They know the name Kate Beckett nearly as well."

"Then why? Why would you tell Martha and not me?"

"First of all, the last Rick knew of you was what Kate knew of you. An alcoholic, unable to deal with the murder of his wife. Unable to support his teenage daughter when she needed him."

Jim huffed. "You certainly don't pull any punches, do you?" He was silent for a few seconds before continuing in a less aggrieved voice. "That was long ago. I changed. Martha is responsible for much of that. She wouldn't let me drink myself to death. We met because our two kids had died together, and she ended up saving me."

"Jim, if you could meet Rick, you'd understand. He doesn't care what happens to him. His singular focus in life is finding your daughter. He accepted a life sentence in a horrific prison in order to protect her. He nearly wouldn't trust in me; the only reason I think he did was because I happen to be the great nephew of his beloved captain, Anapa."

"So, why not try to find me and discover if I was still an alcoholic? I'd understand avoiding me if I was still in the cups, but I'm not. I'm a lawyer too, dammit. I can help. I want to help. She's my daughter, after all. Why would you not want me to assist in any way I can?"

Afaitu looked out the window. Jim had pulled the car over to a curb while he argued with him. Perhaps for the best. They couldn't afford a wreck or injuries at this time. When he spoke, the anguish in his voice was clear, even to a man who only wanted to hear that he could be involved in the search for his child.

"I've agonized for days and nights over what kind of plan would keep them both safe. Hours of sleepless nights. Gut-wrenching worry during the days. The responsibility for both of them has weighed heavily on me. I'd like nothing more to share it."

"But?"

"But the only solution I could think of is quite delicate. They will be suspicious of everything. They were following Tamahere for weeks after he showed up on Papeete. If they have any idea she is alive, with Grollet's resources, I have no doubt he will find her. We _must_ do it first."

"Why can't Richard just give us a general idea? We could start looking, quietly."

Afaitu slapped his legs with his hands, startling Jim out of his tunnel-like focus on Katie. "He _has_ no idea! The weeks adrift, starving, dehydrated. Head injury. Unconscious when he was found. Then had amnesia for a week after he woke up. Try as he might, he simply does not know where they were. He is hoping he'll recognize it when he sees it."

"Why do you think Grollet would find her then? They must have been in quite a remote place for all this time to pass without discovery."

"I harbor a suspicion that Grollet knows the basic directions; something Rick does not. Perhaps Tane was a better navigator than everyone thought, or they were lucky. Tamahere can't remember, though he too has racked his brain trying to do so. Sick when he was found, then spent a few years pickling himself in alcohol like you did. Too much time passed now for him to remember any details. I could be wrong that Grollet knows anything; I have no proof. But, I'm not willing to risk it either. Wouldn't think you'd be willing, either."

Jim shook his head, frustrated. "No. I wouldn't. But how does Richard find her from a prison cell?"

"Ah, that is where my not so brilliant plan begins. We must free him, but make Grollet believe he's been alone this whole time. Rick was unconscious when Grollet hit him in the head. He could not know what Grollet did to him without the knowledge Kate provided later."

Jim nodded. "Yes, according to what he wrote he truly did think he was simply knocked out and abandoned when he came to in that bathroom."

"Yes, exactly. We just leave out the part where he found Kate. He was in a small bathroom, easily overlooked by any search, so that would not be a damning fact."

"That's true. I'm sure it was chaotic."

"He could claim he simply awoke and stumbled to the bow, to find the life boat missing. Confused, head splitting, he grabbed a life preserver. Perhaps he was tossed off the ship, perhaps he tried to jump off and swim. Then he woke up on an island, alone, and survived for years, again alone, until a nearly ill-fated attempt to reach civilization again."

"That could work, I suppose. It's simple, and close enough to the truth. So, how do you get him released?"

"With Martha's help. I was planning on taking her to Tahiti with me, going straight to Nuutania from the prison and demanding an audience with my client. I was hoping to bring some press too, so when she declares him to be her son there is a means to publicize the fact. They'll have no choice but to release him."

"Is Martha Rodgers that influential?"

Afaitu smiled. "Polynesians may not read many mystery novels written in English, but we do like movies. American or otherwise. Plus, she was quite sympathetic when she was in the islands looking for her son. People do not forget tragedies such as this one."

"And after he's released?"

"That will be the role of a lifetime for Rick. He must convince Grollet that Kate is as long dead to him as she is to the rest of the world. While we initiate a secret search for her. I suspect Grollet will milk the publicity of a famous author being found alive for all that it's worth. He, like all politicians, has a marked ability to make silk purses out of sow's ears, no?"

"And once we find her?"

"Ah, then we must use some of the Richard Castle or Martha Rodgers fortune to move as swiftly as a bee. We will snatch her out of the shark's open jaw and you'll have your daughter back."

"So you were going to keep this from me to prevent any chance of my tipping them off?"

Afaitu nodded. "Yes. Your first instinct, natural as it is, was to rush to Tahiti and start searching. They would know in an instant who you are. It's troublesome enough that you're Martha's manager, though I had not discovered that when I did my research on her. They are likely unaware of your involvement in Martha's life, but I'm sure it would raise hackles if they did."

"And this is why you didn't want me to tell my wife, Celeste?"

"Yes. The more people who know a secret plan, the less secret it becomes."

Jim shifted the car back into motion, pulling away from the curb.

"I understand now your hesitations. I appreciate it, the care you are attempting, and all for my daughter. I _will_ tell my wife, however." He halted Afaitu's protest with a sharp gesture of his right hand. "I cannot keep this from her. What kind of husband would I be? You should know, though, that she is above reproach."

Afaitu merely raised his eyebrows at such a confident statement.

"She was Martha's personal assistant for several years, as Martha told you. However, what she did not say, was that after she left her employment we started a management company together. We represent some of the biggest stars in Hollywood and Broadway. My wife is well aware of the need for confidentiality when millions are at stake. She is a remarkable negotiator. With the life of my daughter—well, she will be silent. As will I. We _will_ stay away until you let us know we can help."

Afaitu simply nodded. What else could he do? The description of Celeste Beckett did make him feel better. He hoped he could convince Rick that they would be discreet when he told him of this particular chain of events. He was certain his client would not be pleased.

"Tell me again how you've set up the communication between yourself and Tamahere."

Afaitu recounted the measures they'd taken, elaborating when prompted by Jim. The man knew his way around encrypted files. Afaitu supposed it was an important part of his job, now that he knew exactly what he did for a living.

They agreed to add Jim to the shared account after he downloaded the encryption software they'd chosen. He already used a proxy program on occasion, so that wasn't necessary to add. Afaitu was grateful that Jim was committed to helping, even from afar. And he was grateful he'd be helping _from_ afar. The disaster he'd envisioned of Jim rushing to Tahiti had been averted, and now they had the resources of another sharp mind on their side.

* * *

Afaitu took a cab to Martha's residence, arriving just before ten. Jim wasn't there yet, so he took the opportunity to discuss his nascent plan with her, since Jim was already aware of it.

She was silent after he finished. Nervous that she opposed the plan, he asked her thoughts.

"I guess I was thinking about the irony of using my celebrity to free my son from prison."

"I'm at a loss. What do you mean?"

She glanced up at him, still lost in thoughts of the past.

"When he disappeared he had written numerous best sellers. He was famous, celebrated both for his books and his playboy life style. Oh, we didn't agree on how he lived his life all the time, but he had really made it and I thought he deserved to enjoy the fruits of his success."

She paused, smiled tightly. "I was an actress, had been most of his life. But a single mother can't take just any role, and we had struggled. Most of the time there was just enough to get by on. Sometimes not quite enough. But, oh, how I loved that boy. So clever. Such an imagination."

"Life sounds like it was challenging for the two of you."

"At times. Then he grew up and far exceeded my small celebrity. I was _so_ proud of him. I worried about the excesses of fame and a twenty something year old, but I thought he had a good head on his shoulders, under the giant ego he developed with the success of each book."

She looked at him then, pain in her eyes. "Then one day he left it all. It got to be too much, scared him. He was losing himself. I thought he'd leave for a bit, come back more mature and settle down. But he loved working on that boat so much. I didn't understand it, but I was in a complicated marriage and as long as he was clean and sober I decided not to worry too much about it all."

"Then he disappeared."

"No! That's where you're wrong. Then he _died_. The pain…I'd never experienced anything like it. Like I was drowning while on dry land. My marriage fell apart; I didn't care. I wasn't working. I met Jim; sought him out after I learned his daughter was from New York too. I found him, drunk. He was someone to take care of, so I did. Got him straightened out. Not an easy task. He was suicidal. He'd lost Johanna and Katie within a year of each other. I wasn't sure he'd ever come around. But he did, after a long struggle."

Afaitu was frozen. He'd not considered what Jim had gone through from that perspective before. His wife, his only child. It was unfathomable.

"It's because of Richard that I am what I am today, you know."

Afaitu shook his head. He had no idea what she meant.

"His death. Once I finally decided to return to acting, I suddenly was able to tap the emotional depth that his death had shown me existed within. I threw myself into it, and soon people noticed. I won the Tony, then got the film offers. I chose roles where I could portray some of that depth, and those roles in turn were naturally in serious, heavy films. It suited my new mood perfectly, and that led directly to the Academy Awards. All because my son was dead. I would have traded it all to have him back. Still would."

"I didn't know."

"No one knows, except perhaps for Jim and Celeste. I don't share my pain with strangers. My success allows me to skip the usual cattle calls that most celebrities feel the need to attend, in the name of publicity. I could care less about being seen. I suppose it lends a mystery to me that hasn't hurt my fame, either."

"But now you know he's alive. That he'll be ok."

"Will he be ok, Afaitu? You've seen him. Is he unscathed after years of being so isolated? Now imprisoned? I can't picture him now. I only see the young man who disappeared so long ago."

"Martha, he is probably the most focused person I've ever met. I don't know if he'll be ok, long term. I do know he _won't_ be ok if we don't find Kate and rescue her. It's clear they love each other, though in what he's written so far they are not involved. But he thinks of nothing else. No one else. The best way to help him is to do everything we can to find her."

"Then that is what we'll do."

* * *

Two days later, Afaitu returned as per his original itinerary. He'd planned on Martha coming with him, but Jim, Celeste and Martha convinced him that flying into Papeete on the same flight as Richard Castle's mother was bound to catch the wrong kind of attention at best; at worst possibly lead to detainment in the airport, which would destroy their plans.

The new plan was to have Martha follow four days later. This allowed her to finish the play, which had always been scheduled to end its run on Broadway on April 11th. This would result in fewer ruffled feathers, though the producers would be furious that she wouldn't be available for publicity afterwards, as well as for Tony nominee interviews. Her son came first, but she couldn't reveal her reasons behind her leaving abruptly.

An added benefit for Afaitu was that he could make his little preparations for her arrival and reunification with her son in advance of her arrival. He needed to do some reconnaissance, make sure there were reasonable chances of success with the plan.

He'd also be able to meet with Rick, tell him how things had worked out. Gather the newest chapters from him. The plan was coalescing. Afaitu just hoped the final product would be as successful as the hopes of the people involved. And the love of the two people at the center of it all.

* * *

**Looped did indeed close on April 11****th****, 2010, and Valerie Harper was nominated for the Tony Award: Best Performance by a Leading Actress in a Play. She lost, ultimately, to Viola Davis for her role in Fences.**


	22. Chapter 22: Merry Christmas, Kate!

**This chapter is dedicated to fanficjunkie12. Long a supporter, she laughs at my jokes on twitter and always has a positive viewpoint. Thanks for all of the encouragement and for laughing when no one else was.**

* * *

April, 2010

"Dupont! Your lawyer is here."

Finally. Afaitu had been gone for longer than expected, and Rick had started to worry that something had gone wrong. He'd been anxious, not sure what to do if Afaitu's plan failed. He had to get to Kate. The terror for her fate drove him to push himself hard. Lack of sleep was beginning to take a toll.

The guards had paid little attention to him after Salesi joined forces with him. However, to be safe, Salesi kept the finished papers under his mattress—the bottom bunk, of course. Sleeping beneath his bulk would have made Rick claustrophobic. If the guards paid less attention to Rick, then they paid no attention to Salesi. Rick could see that nearly all were scared shitless of the gentle giant. He didn't blame them. Salesi could have snapped any of the guards in two without batting an eye, had he been so inclined.

With all of the uninterrupted time that the safety of his new friend brought him, Rick had been able to write rapidly. It made him sad, remembering those early days with Kate; not knowing now if she were safe. Yet, he was determined to do anything to help her, and right now his only possible action was to write their shared history. Even if something happened to him before he was freed, at least the story he was writing might serve to tell what had occurred all those years ago. Their true story. Their history would be acknowledged. Their love proclaimed.

Hurried along the corridor by an impatient guard, having just had time enough to grab his finished chapters, he was nearly shoved into the room with his lawyer. Afaitu looked wan. Worried.

"What's the matter?"

The other man waved a hand, dismissing his concern. "Long flight. Time change. Nearly froze my toes off in that concrete jungle you call home. Take your pick."

"Did it all go ok? Did you find my mother? Is she here?" He looked around eagerly, as if she could have been hidden in the same room, waiting to surprise him in some bizarre twist on their long lost reunion.

"She'll be coming in a few days. We wanted to make sure everything was ok here, and thought it would be suspicious for her to show up on the same flight as me, a flight from the States."

Rick sat, heavily. It was a reasonable precaution; however, all he saw was more delay in finding Kate. He knew he was being ridiculous: they must not rush, not at such critical junctures. But the reasonable side of him had to physically clamp himself in his chair to prevent the insanely-worried-Rick from doing something incredibly stupid, like grabbing a guard for hostage or running for an opened door.

Once he had control, he realized with a start that Afaitu had been quiet the whole time. Too quiet. Narrowing his eyes, he stared at the other man with more attention. Something was bothering him. Had there been an issue? Was his mother really coming?

"Did she believe you?"

The lawyer gave a half smile, lost in thought for a moment. "It took a bit of time to finally talk to her. She did not want to read your note, did not want to listen. Your 'death' affected her deeply and she did not want to put any credence into a crackpot story that you were alive. But we did convince her to read the note, eventually. And as soon as she did, she knew you were alive."

Rick nodded, trying to picture the scene. Suddenly he looked up, glaring at Afaitu. "We? Who is _WE_?"

The other man had the good grace to look ashamed. And guilty. "Her manager. He's been with her for years. If it hadn't been for his personal intervention, I would never have gotten close enough to give her the note, let alone get her to read it."

Rick jumped up, pacing the room in agitation.

"Dammit, _another_ person involved. We talked about this! Is he trustworthy?" Rick was incensed. Them more people involved, the less likely the plan would work. Too many lips, tongues wagging. He felt any semblance of control he'd had over the situation disintegrating.

"Yes. He will not say anything."

"How can you be so sure of that? There's no guarantee, even if he's been with mother for '_many_' years. How could you take this risk?"

"He knows the stakes."

"_Knows_ the stakes?! He has _no_ idea. How _can_ he? He's not personally involved, he's just her manager. She didn't even really _have_ a manager when I last saw her. How dare you risk our plan, risk Kate!" He'd jumped up, pacing with agitation causing his steps to waver, stumbling all over the small room.

"Rick, you don't understand. He does know the stakes. His name is…his name is Jim Beckett."

That stopped him cold.

"WHAT? Jim Beckett as in Kate's father? Is my mother's manager?"

"Yes, apparently they me…"

"He's an ALCOHOLIC. My mother's manager is a drunk, and you _trusted_ him? What is wrong with you? How the hell did this happen?"

"He's not a drunk, at least anymore."

"After Johanna Beckett died, Jim crawled in a bottle. Kate needed him, and he essentially left her an orphan. He's a.."

Afaitu held up a hand, stopping Rick's tirade for a moment. "Listen, I do not question what happened when Kate's mother died. I have no doubt you know all about it from Kate's perspective."

Rick nodded; it was one of the events that had hurt Kate the most, after the death of her mother.

"But it was ten years ago, Rick. The man lost his wife, lost his life, then lost his daughter. In less than a year. Your mother helped get him sober. They bonded over the loss of their children; you were lost together, and that shared loss brought them together. Let me tell you about them."

Sighing, Rick sat down with a thud. He knew a lot could happen in ten years. Ten years on an island, isolated, had left him stuck in the past while the rest of the world moved forward. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

Afaitu explained the little he knew about their relationship. Rick calmed down as Afaitu recounted his tale and explained all that had happened in New York. Eventually, he even conceded that the direction Afaitu had taken was probably their only option. They both relaxed, back in synch once again. Rick decided to steer the conversation into safer territory. Rehashing what might have happened was a recipe for a larger ulcer than the one he probably had already.

"So you really hated New York, huh?" Rick chuckled. He could picture Afaitu's discomfort with his hometown. It was a complete one eighty from island life. "Those were probably the coldest temperatures you've ever experienced."

Afaitu shuddered. "I didn't think I'd make it back with all my toes. No, I didn't care for the city. Too many people, too much concrete for this island boy. I didn't have time for any sight-seeing, obviously, though I was hoping to at least visit the 9/11 site."

"Nine…eleven? Is that a store? Like 7-Eleven?" Rick joked. 7-Eleven was a gas and convenience store chain, and he thought it quite strange that was the one thing Afaitu wanted to visit. One look at Afaitu's face sobered him immediately.

"You don't know, do you?" the lawyer mused. "No, you couldn't. You disappeared before it happened, so there's no way you'd know. Dear God, there is so much you've missed."

"What are you talking about?"

Afaitu pinned him in place with an intense, sad look. "Rick, believe me when I say I wish I had time to discuss it with you. Perhaps there will be time after we free you. But for now, you must remain in ignorance while we focus on Kate."

Rick stared at him in concern. Obviously something significant had happened, and he was curious what would engender such a reaction from the normally unflappable lawyer. But, Kate superseded everything in his life. It was easy to agree to put off learning of the world of 2010 in order to concentrate on finding his love.

After giving Afaitu his chapters and explaining how Salesi had joined forces with him, the two men parted. They knew the next time they saw each other would be a true test of the whole plan: the day Martha Rodgers resurrected Richard Rodgers from the dead.

* * *

Martha settled in her seat, anxious to begin the long flight and terrified of what would happen when she did arrive. So many things could go wrong. But on the other end of this airplane, her son…her _son_…was waiting.

It was still hard to believe. Part of her thought perhaps this was all an elaborate, ill-natured prank. Or an attempt by a rival theater to destroy the box office that _Looped_ had generated. Ten years. Gone. How had she not known? Not felt that he was alive, somewhere out there trying to get back to her?

She'd declared him dead, after seven years had passed with no trace. She'd been forced to, really. His large estate had been in limbo, and the state required a settlement. She hadn't wanted to; it felt so final, and without a body it seemed wrong. But there'd been no choice. Jim had declared Katie dead through the same legal means on the exact same day that Martha had declared Richard dead. The symmetry of their actions had seemed fitting at the time; both children lost together, their loss responsible for the joining of Martha and Jim. If only they'd known.

His book sales had gone through the roof after his disappearance was noted in American papers. No one in the States, including her, had even known anything was amiss until the life boat with the three survivors had been found. It had been near Christmas when the first whisperings were heard; a tragedy in the South Pacific with New York overtones. That's when Henri Grollet had started spreading his lies. Which she'd believed; everyone had.

And the Richard Castle public clamored for his books. His first—and last—Derrick Storm book had been rushed to publication, smashing records right and left. Black Pawn had issued new printings for all of Richard's books, even the early ones that hadn't sold as well. Limited edition prints, special collections; it was all about Richard and the fact that he was dead. A man taken in his prime. The mawkish public snapped the story up, along with his books, and millions poured in. He was better known in death than he had been in life.

The fact that he'd disappeared with a beautiful American tourist wasn't missed, either. A woman also declared dead by Grollet. And somehow the press had figured out that Katie Beckett had been in French Polynesia to escape memories of a mother murdered in a filthy New York alley. Coupled with unflattering pictures of a drunken Jim raging at reporters from his porch, the portrayal of Katie as a depressed but tragic figure was splashed across the city. The more disreputable rags suggested she was better off dead than mired in the hellish life that had descended onto her shoulders that January night almost one year earlier. The publicity had glared white and hot onto Johanna Beckett's death, raising questions and bringing answers that would never have been asked or answered had her daughter not died with such public attention.

Martha's initial discovery of her son's death had sent her haring to Tahiti immediately. As if her presence would help uncover valuable evidence that would be lost without her. It hadn't. Fruitless subsequent trips to the country had soon given way to despair. She'd sought out Jim on her own accord. He was the only living person who might understand her loss. She'd not been prepared for the wreck of a man that she'd found, and once she had a better understanding of his twin tragedies she'd vowed to help him.

Somehow, she'd gotten him into treatment. And by some miracle, he'd fought for sobriety. Martha wasn't sure in his place she'd been able to overcome the grief that losing both his wife and only child had brought him. But overcome it he had, and once out of treatment he'd been jobless. Uninterested in returning to the law, which reminded him too pointedly of his Johanna, he'd been at loose ends. She'd let him start helping her out, negotiating her contracts and such. As her career took off, his advice became invaluable, and soon he'd become her manager. It was a relationship that had benefitted the both of them, unquestionably. She viewed him as a brother, and her trust in him was absolute.

She knew the last week had been hard on him; it'd been an unrelenting strain on her, so he must feel even more pressure. Martha _knew_ her son was alive. People had seen him; he had a location, even if it was a prison. Katie was still unaccounted for, other than Richard's reassurances of having seen her alive four months ago. Jim was in agony, but Martha knew Celeste would be a rock for him and that neither would risk any harm coming to the long lost pair.

Jim was now tasked with researching the issues that would arise once Richard was declared to be alive. Martha and Celeste both wanted him busy so he wouldn't dwell as much on Katie, though they knew there was little else he would think about. People rarely returned from the dead, but they would have to face this very problem soon. Richard's sole beneficiary had been Martha, which simplified things somewhat, but there would be questions regarding taxes, his royalties and the control of his books. Martha had been pretty lax on that front, not really caring how Black Pawn handled things on their end. Richard had been dead; she hadn't needed any of the money. It just hadn't been a priority.

Richard's former book agent and publisher were both still around. She idly wondered how Gina and Paula would react to the news of his being found alive, as the plane taxied down the runway and they were finally airborne. Both women had a flair for taking advantage of a situation. Martha was confident they'd be on a plane to Papeete the moment they heard the news and saw the press. It would be yet another ball for Richard and her to juggle, but she was certain they could handle it.

Ten minutes later, the all clear came to use electronic devices. Martha removed her laptop from its bag and powered it up. She would spend the flight reading the next chapters Richard had written, and that Tamahere had spent hour upon hour typing up for the rest to share. She was curious to learn more of his experience. And of his relationship to Katie, who so far seemed less than interested in him. Martha knew Katie was mourning her mother; the date in the story was approaching January 9th and the first anniversary of Johanna's murder. However, Richard had no idea. She just hoped her bumbling son didn't completely make a fool of himself while trying to comfort Katie during her profound grief.

* * *

December, 1999

It was almost Christmas. Rick knew this only because of his calendar. The weather was still hot, humid and decidedly non-Yule like. At least to someone from the northern hemisphere.

He was worried about Kate; she was withdrawing from him. He had no idea what the issue was, or how to fix it. Every day she woke up with worry lines already creasing her beautiful face. He never saw any smiles from her any more. He'd try throughout the day to get her to laugh, resorting to increasingly ridiculous hyperbole in an attempt to amuse her. More often than not, it just resulted in an eye roll or a huff.

The problem wasn't him. At least he was pretty sure it wasn't him. Surely if it was him, she wouldn't spend so much time in his presence. Though, as the only two residents on a deserted island, she didn't have much choice. But she didn't seek solitude—at least all of the time. Their jobs and chores often separated them; the business of trying to stay alive and build something for a future took precedence, even over the blackness surrounding Kate Beckett.

She did her work, no fault there. It was just that she did it without any sense of joy or satisfaction. Nothing seemed to capture her interest; even little things like the beauty of a flower, the perfect wash of colors at a sunset, or the excitement of a large fish Rick accidentally caught while hauling more bamboo to Pereora. It was like she was living within a hard shell that allowed her to interact with the outside world when she chose, but didn't allow any of the outside world to touch her. A crustacean shielded by a perfect shield of calcium carbonate.

He knew she cried when she was alone; the evidence of red, swollen eyes all he needed. She slept restlessly, tossing and turning violently. Not unusual for her to wake him with a scream. He never mentioned the tears or the nightmares; he hoped giving her space, giving her time would eventually lead him back to her. That plan didn't seem to be working well so far.

They'd made quite a bit of progress in terms of living more comfortably. He'd spent a good five days building a large pergola that covered the kitchen area. It was big enough to cover a space that he hoped would contain a true table and chairs, eventually. He didn't take the time to completely thatch the roof; they just needed some shade. He would thatch the roof over the fire pit later, when he had more time. Kate didn't say much about it; she said very little these days. But she had given him a small, tight smile when he finished. That sign of appreciation, tiny as it was, had lifted his spirits for days.

The next task had been to finish separating the fibers from all the leaves Kate had been curing. Not all were ready, but the first batch was done and he was eager to show her what to do so they could start making all the rope they'd need to build a strong house. He'd spent a whole day with her, showing her what to do, and now each night they spent at least half an hour twisting the fibers into twine.

Rick decided to try his hand at making some simple oil lamps next, with the candlenuts. He'd spent days gathering a large quantity of the nuts, drying them in the hot sun. Simply stringing a few together and lighting one end gave them some light, though it was fairly dim.

He found a flat rock with a groove in it and used one of their chisels to deepen the groove and extend it to the edge. He then placed an empty water bottle underneath the groove. A handful of candlenuts were then crushed by a placing several heavy rocks on top of them. Any expressed oil ran into the groove and dripped into the bottle. This was a low yield process, but it did garner him a bottle full of oil after about fifteen separate pressings.

Ready for the next step, Rick took some large, empty sea shells and started experimenting with different wick material. The best ended up being made from a combination of dried wild grasses and some coconut fiber. He made a whole stockpile of them once he hit upon the best material, but didn't show Kate any of the fruits of his labor. He was saving it for Christmas. Not that she seemed to care about anything he was doing these days.

* * *

Kate woke, still exhausted after another restless night. Her body ached, sore from her daily labors and from carrying the despair that only increased every day. Sixteen days. She knew the number as soon as she opened her eyes. Sixteen days until her mother had been gone for a full year. Every sunrise that ticked the number lower mocked her. A bright burning disk in the sky, spotlighting her when all she wanted to do was hide from it. It wouldn't let her.

She'd tried, for a while, to live in the moment. Enjoy what her life had become. Take joy in the small things that surrounded her. But the miasma of grief started crawling back up her body after she'd tried to discard it. Within a week of their trip to the outer part of the island, it had settled back into place; it now enveloped her completely. No part of her waking moments was spent without thinking of her mother: her love for her, her murder, the piercing grief when she'd been told of her death. Most nights were consumed with the same. She dreamt of shadowy figures and stabbing knives. Wooden coffins and stone markers. She wasn't sure she'd ever sleep through the night again.

She did her tasks on autopilot. She knew Rick was worried about her. He tried to cheer her up; told her ridiculous stories and went out of his way to do little things to get her to smile. There were times when she wanted to confide in him; let him help her carry the burden for a while. Carry _her_. But she was scared to share her secrets. She didn't want to let him in to the private grief that gripped her. If she shared such a personal piece of her life, what would that make him to her?

He'd been a stranger, initially. One she hadn't even liked. Then he was a savior, rescuing her from Grollet's imprisonment and ultimately from the crippled boat. He'd become a friend here on the island, working with her to survive. Showing her how to live in the South Pacific. Now, she thought he might be a lifeline, rescuing her from drowning in the black pool of despair she'd fallen into. If she'd let him.

* * *

She was making her way to the kitchen, planning to start her day with a small breakfast, then jumping into the never ending labor that marked her life now. She hadn't seen Rick, though that wasn't always unusual. He sometimes got an early start to avoid the heat of the day.

Wrapped up in her own thoughts, she didn't notice the fire at first. They usually ate breakfast cold: some bananas or other fruit. Too much effort to light a fire that they didn't really need. Yet here was one crackling away, and had been for some time judging by the well burnt logs and coals. Their largest pot bubbled to one side, full of breadfruit.

Staring at the scene without comprehension, she missed Rick walking towards her, a dead chicken dangling from one hand.

"Kate, you're up!" he exclaimed happily.

Seeing what he was carrying increased her bewilderment. They hadn't killed a chicken since their arrival on the island, using them instead for eggs.

"What are you doing, Rick?" It was all so surprising, she couldn't help but speak. He seemed gratified with her interest.

"Thought we deserved a treat for such a special day. Today, for your dining pleasure, we'll have a nice seafood and breadfruit stew for starters, followed by a roast chicken with a taro leaf side. Feast fit for a king and queen."

Special day? What was he talking about? The one month anniversary of the shipwreck was still a few days away, with the month anniversary of their time on the island a few days after that. Ignorant of her confusion, Rick prattled on.

"Everything should be ready for a nice lunch. We can eat, then I have some presents for you. I thought we might take a little canoe trip around the lake, enjoy the sights of the island. Maybe a long swim. But there's no agenda. Whatever we want to do today. It's a day to spend together and celebrate."

She tried to process what he was saying, but it made no sense. Celebrate? Presents?

"Have you been out in the sun too long?"

His turn to look puzzled. "What do you mean? The sun's only been up for about an hour now."

"Rick, what are you talking about? What are you celebrating?"

"Haven't you looked at the calendar?"

Hadn't she looked? She didn't need to look. It was sixteen days.

"It's December twenty fifth. Merry Christmas, Kate!"

The eager, puppy dog expression on his face overwhelmed her. He'd planned this all for her, for them together. She hadn't even been thinking about the holiday. She suddenly noticed for the first time that he'd woven a large vine with flowers and festooned it around the pergola. There was a bamboo lattice that he'd fashioned into a conical shape in one corner, decorated with pretty shells and more flowers. A few rough packages wrapped in ti leaves tied with twine sat next to it. Her mouth gaped open as she took in all the work he'd done, before she burst into tears and ran towards the beach.

She was sobbing uncontrollably next to the water when she felt his warm presence next to her a few minutes later. A tentative touch on her shoulder was all the invitation she needed before she turned and found herself once again crying on Rick's broad chest. He hugged her to him tightly, making her feel safe but at the same time guiltier. He'd done so much for her, and she'd essentially ignored him, too caught up in the grief of her mother's death to pay attention to anyone else.

"Shh, shh, Kate. It's ok."

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Rick."

"There's nothing to be sorry about. I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have surprised you like that."

That made her cry harder.

"Kate, I know something is bothering you. You're so sad all the time. Did I do or say something that made you mad?"

She shook her head no, unable to speak while crying so hard. A few minutes later, as her tears lessened, he tried again.

"Kate, I know whatever it is must be really hard to deal with. I just want you to know you can trust me. I want to help."

She considered his words, the sincerity in his voice. He'd done so much for her. And his actions today showed how deeply he cared. Kate Beckett had lost a great deal in her life: her mother forever, her father from reality. Her place at the academy, her dreams of revenge on those who killed without thought for those left behind. She was stuck on an island in the middle of nowhere. No one knew she was alive. No one in the outside world probably cared. But here, in Rick's arms, she realized she still had family; still had someone who cared for her. And with that one realization, her impenetrable shell suddenly fell to dust in the sand around her feet.

* * *

**Happy Fourth to all Americans, and happy Friday to the rest of the world. Love to hear any thoughts you care to share with me. **


	23. Chapter 23: A Christmas Confession

**This chapter is dedicated to alexmack32. A lover of A/U fics, I hoped she'd like this one…we're about as A/U as it can get, after all! But while I certainly appreciate her awesome reviews and her kind words for me, what I'd really like to thank her for is for all the hard work she does on her blog, castlefanfics, on Tumblr. It is an incredible resource, and I know I am very grateful she puts in all the blood, sweat, and tears so that readers like me can easily find what we're looking for. Thanks Alex!**

* * *

December, 1999

"Kate?" Rick could feel the change in her mood. She was still sad, still sobbing quietly in his arms. But she suddenly felt more open. Accepting of his support in full.

"Shh, Rick. Please, just hold me for now," she hiccupped.

"No problem," he rumbled. He gathered her tighter in his arms, then sat down on the sand, careful not to hurt her. She noted the concern; her estimation for him rose higher.

They sat together for over thirty minutes. Rick was hot; he was in the direct sun, with a crying woman wrapped in his arms. However, he wouldn't have moved except for the direst emergency.

As the force and frequency of her sobs diminished, Rick was able to let his mind wander over what he knew of Kate Beckett. There were the obvious things he'd discovered since the shipwreck: she was resourceful, smart, hard-working and feisty. He'd heard on the ship she was from New York, like he was. Beyond those paltry facts, she was a mystery. However, for the first time in his life, he found that he was yearning—burning—to know more about her.

He'd known for a while he was enamored with her. She was gorgeous, intelligent and, well, hot. When she smiled at him, with that smile he had only seen a few times, he wanted to prostrate himself in front of her and do whatever she bid of him. As he'd spent more time with her and started recognizing the incredible sorrow that radiated from her very pores, he soon wanted nothing more than to take on some of the burden for her.

No relationship with any woman, save his mother, had ever induced such concern and caring that he had for Kate. Did he want to have sex with her? Absolutely, no question. But if he could only make her a little happier, lighten her load for a while, and let her know how much he cared? Well, he would be the happiest of men for nothing more.

He had no idea what Kate thought of him. He doubted she had thought that much about their relationship. She was too mired in melancholy to see anything else but her own misery. Which was why he was sure she hadn't known it was Christmas; that she wouldn't have made him any presents. He didn't care. He only wanted to see her smile a bit today, and for whatever time she could manage, lift the veil on her heartache. He would do whatever it took to accomplish that.

Right now, it seemed that holding her tight in the broiling sun was required. So be it. He would be the most comforting sobbing-woman-holder that ever existed. He just hoped that she would open her heart to him a tiny bit; confide what she could to him. Not knowing what made her so sad was very frustrating. He had no idea what to say-what he _could_ say—to her to try and help. He just knew that somehow, someway Richard Rodgers was close to falling in love with this woman. The knowledge filled him with equal parts euphoria and terror.

* * *

Kate was feeling quite enervated. She'd cried so long and hard this time she wasn't sure there was energy left for breathing, let alone moving. And she had no desire to leave her comfortable little nest, encircled by his strong arms. She felt safe, secure and…loved. She hadn't felt this way for over a year.

Initially she'd been inattentive to any sensory input other than her own sobs. Soon though, she'd started to notice that she was being held, and that it made her snuggle closer to him. She could feel the concern that he radiated for her; knew without asking he would do anything for her.

A sharp pain from her chest startled her. She wondered at it, then had the sudden image from one of her favorite Christmas cartoons pop into her head. Like the Grinch, her heart had shrunk to a teensy-weensy size. And with the care and love of this man, it was suddenly growing much bigger. Since it was Christmas Day, she couldn't think of a better way to explain her sudden giggling fit that replaced her previous sobs.

Rick seemed a bit confused by the jumbled explanation, so she tried a different tack.

"I'm sorry I've been so gloomy and sad," she muttered into his chest. She still couldn't bring herself to look him in the eyes.

"It's ok," he soothed, rocking her slightly like an infant. "I just want to help you. I told you before that I'm a good listener."

She nodded.

"I've come to care a lot about you Kate, but there's a part of you that you've always held apart. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, but I want you to know that you _can_, if you decide you need or want to share."

"It's nothing to do with you, or with the wreck. It has to do with my life…before."

He simply hummed against the top of her head, hoping she'd keep talking. He was afraid to make any comments, as if she were a tiny bird that would startle at the sound of his voice and fly off forever. When she began talking, he thought she sounded as though a dam had broken.

"My parents were both lawyers. I'm an only child, and while I went through a slightly rebellious stage, I decided to follow in their footsteps after I graduated from high school. I got in to Stanford and was quite certain I'd be the first female Chief Justice on the Supreme Court."

She fell silent for a minute, but Rick didn't breach the still air. He was too busy cataloging all the information she'd poured forth; thrilled by the data she'd given him so effortlessly.

"I was in my freshman year at Stanford, loving it. Winter break a year ago brought me home for the first time since I'd left for classes. It was great, visiting my parents, seeing my old friends. My mom seemed a little distracted, but she just told me she was working on a disturbing case. I didn't pay too much attention. Too busy getting ready to head back to California and to resume the college life, free from my parents."

He felt her shudder as the last statement was spoken. Clutching her tighter, he felt her breathing even out. She grabbed his arm in one hand, seeming to draw strength from the feel of his skin beneath hers.

"January ninth, we were supposed to all meet at a restaurant for dinner. It was going to be the last dinner out we'd have before I left. My dad and I waited…and waited. She never showed. My dad called the house and her office, but no one ever answered. Eventually, we just headed home together. I wasn't too worried; figured she'd gotten caught up in something. She could be like a hound on a scent sometimes. But then, when we got home…" She started sobbing anew.

Rick rocked her some more, trying to offer what comfort he could. He knew without her saying that her mother was dead; she was too heartbroken for this story to have a happy ending. But, oh, how he wished he could whip out a pen and right—write- the wrong for her.

"There was a police car waiting for us. I knew something had happened. I started crying, screaming, but my dad was so calm. He made me stay in our car and got out to talk to the officers. I saw him buckle under the news, and I couldn't stay put; I ran to him. He just pulled me into a hug. She was dead. Murdered in an alley. Stabbed, left to bleed out amongst the garbage."

"Oh, Kate. I'm so sorry. So, so sorry," he murmured into her hair. Tears of his own were falling, catching in her brown curls like dewdrops.

"They said it was just random violence. Probably a gang. It didn't make any sense to me. I didn't want it to. My dad tried to get me to go back to Stanford…after her funeral. But I refused. I couldn't go to school. I tried transferring to NYU, but I dropped out within a few weeks."

Rick could feel her shivering, despite the heat. Hugging her as tight as he could, he splayed both of his hands wide open, trying to impart his support to her physically as well as emotionally. He thought it helped, at least in part. Her shivers diminished in amplitude.

"Dad was strong up until the funeral. I caught him that night drinking himself to sleep. Who would deny him the numbness he needed to sleep through that horrific night? But that one night turned into the following day. Then a few nights a week. And it rapidly spiraled into the only way he could cope with her being gone. I lost both my parents that January night; I just didn't know it at the time."

Rick didn't know what to say. He'd battled his own demons named drink and drugs, but his had visited him as a reward for his celebrity, not as a means to forget an indescribable pain. He couldn't imagine what Kate's father had gone through, but he hated the man for abandoning his daughter when she clearly needed him.

"What did you do?"

"Cleaned up after him as best I could. Tried to look after him. Tried to be strong. Failed on all counts. I decided I'd never be a lawyer. But I still wanted to do something to bring some justice to the world," she sighed. Caught in the powerful memory, no longer sobbing. Talking about it all was cathartic.

"My mother always enjoyed mystery novels; I used to poke a little fun at how much she loved the law, that she then willingly read about such things in her spare time. I never understood it, until after she died."

Rick nodded. He of all people could appreciate the power of a story.

"I found a book she'd been reading; it looked as though it was an old favorite, dog-eared and broken spine. I picked it up, started to read. And I felt closer to her. I got caught up in the story, which has a happy ending, of course. And I knew. I wanted to help bring some of that satisfaction to the families of victims. The satisfaction of justice that I'd never received. I applied to the Police Academy within a week of picking up that book."

He was surprised. She was a cop? He'd never gotten a vibe like that from her, though to be honest her strongest vibe was sadness. For good reason, as it turned out.

"I was supposed to join the class that starts this January. Until then, I was just floating. Reading all my mom's favorite authors. Dreaming impossible dreams of vengeance and retribution. And then, my friend Lanie found me."

"You didn't want to see her?"

"I didn't want to see anyone. My dad was beyond my reach. My only thoughts were what I could do to make a difference on the streets; speak for the dead. I was marking time, waiting for January. Lanie turned it all on its ear."

"She sounds intimidating."

"Oh, you have no idea. You'd like her. She's an undergrad at Cornell, plans to go to medical school and then become a forensic pathologist. She's got her life neatly organized. And she was not impressed by my plan when she heard it."

"She didn't agree with you going to the Academy?"

"No, it wasn't that exactly. It was more that she could see what I was becoming. Once I went through those doors into the shadowy world of cops and robbers, she was afraid I'd be as lost to the greater world as my dad was to the bottle. She was probably right, you know?"

For the first time since he'd wrapped her in his arms an hour ago, she leaned her head back and looked in his eyes. Her eyes were clearer. But there was something else-he could _see_ her; it took his breath away that she'd opened herself to him. "So what did Lanie want you to do?"

"This. Well, ok, not this," she said, gesturing with one hand to the isolated lake beyond. "She wanted me to travel. Get out of the States, if I could. And when I came back, if I still wanted to go to the Academy, then at least I had done something to expand my horizons for a bit."

"So, you came to Tahiti?"

"Well, not at first. I went trekking in New Zealand, then laid on beaches in Australia. They are gorgeous countries, but they're both too big, too open for me to feel comfortable. In each I felt like turning to my side with each new vista and saying something to my mom about it. It was like she should be there with me."

"How'd you pick Tahiti then?"

"It was literally a brochure in Australia. I'd wanted something smaller; Tahiti was it. After several days in Papeete, I realized I needed more. Something substantial. I'd made friends with a couple that own a local coffee shop and they suggested going to some of the more remote islands to see how the regular people lived. I decided I had nothing to lose, and they gave me the name of a certain cargo ship whose captain was a good friend."

"Where you ran into a ruggedly handsome sailor." He smiled into her hair, remembering the first sight of her and how he'd been struck by her beauty even then. He'd sworn to avoid her; that particular desire had given way to one quite the opposite in feeling.

"Where I promptly ran into one of the most frustrating men I'd ever encountered," she said pushing his chest playfully. "You wouldn't speak. I kept talking and you just stood there, silent. I actually thought you were of limited intelligence, you know."

"You did? Hey, I can't help it if I was rendered mute by the sight of you. You were the most gorgeous woman I'd ever seen."

She blushed, ducking her head again. "Well, you didn't improve on our next acquaintance. You mauled me!"

"You mean I saved your life!"

"Rick, you grabbed my chest!"

"Yes, but you didn't fall, did you?"

She chuffed at him. He knew she wasn't as mad as she was pretending. They were silent, each content to recall their memories of each other since then. Rick broke the silence first.

"Thank you for telling me Kate. It means a lot. And I now know why you've been so depressed. I can't take the pain away, but has talking about it helped?"

She nodded. "I didn't think it would. There were times I wanted to tell you, have someone to confide in. But most of the time I just wanted to be wrapped up in my own misery."

"I can't imagine what you've been through. But I'm here, now. I know it's not the same; we're not in New York. But I want to help you, and if talking is what you need, I'll listen. And if shutting the hell up is what you need, I'll take a hike."

She snaked her arms up, around his head, then kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Rick. For the first time since that awful January day, I feel like I have someone in my corner. I really appreciate it."

"It's my pleasure, Kate. Now, shall we go see about our Christmas dinner?"

She visibly hesitated.

"What?"

"I didn't get you anything. I wasn't thinking about Christmas at all."

"Kate, sharing your story with me was the only gift I need. My paltry items are far less valuable. And some of them are really for both of us. Don't worry about it."

She nodded, emotionally overcome again at his words. She'd had no idea those weeks ago how badly she'd misjudged him. And she was so thankful that she got a chance to see the real Rick.

* * *

The dead chicken was waiting for them, fortunately in the shade of the pergola. The breadfruit pot was dangerously low on water, but as the fire had died back without anyone to tend it, disaster was averted.

Kate prepped the chicken while Rick attended to the other items. Soon, the succulent smell of the roasting bird caused both of their mouths to water.

They'd discovered that the part of the lake nearest the channel opening to the ocean had the greatest mix of sea water, which made logical sense. Rick had been ecstatic to find some marine life that preferred salt to fresh water living there. It meant he could harvest fish and seafood in the canoe without Kate. He didn't trust it if he was alone in the open ocean.

He'd already collected a nice variety of shellfish for the breadfruit stew, which was soon bubbling quietly once again. With nothing more to do for at least ten minutes, he suggested that Kate open her presents.

She gave him a rueful look.

"Kate, please. I really don't want anything. Please, let's open them."

They made their way to the 'Christmas tree,' and Kate enthused for a few minutes over the decorations and clever design of the bamboo lattice. Rick's chest puffed out a bit; he had been quite proud when he thought of the idea.

The first package he handed her was also the smallest. Opening it, she found a small bracelet of candle nuts, dried and polished.

"A lot of the cultures in Polynesia use them for leis and such. I thought it would make a quick and easy bracelet."

"It's beautiful, thank you," she said, placing it on her wrist.

The next package was slightly larger, and Kate gasped when she opened it. It was a necklace that he'd strung together with some of the smallest coconut fibers he could find. It was decorated with various shells and pretty rocks that he'd found while working on the island. The overall effect was as though a beautiful piece of the beach had been strung together.

She placed it over her head immediately, and his vision of the sea goddess, the same he'd had soon after they'd first arrived on the island, revisited him.

"Rick! I don't know what to say. It's gorgeous."

"Yes," he said, though not looking at the necklace. She blushed again, dropping her eyes once more. He was no longer hiding his feelings for her. She wasn't in love with him. Had to get past the anniversary of her mother's death first. But she knew she _could_ love him. Very likely _would_ love him. Soon.

The final present seemed to be the one he was most excited about.

"This is for both of us, Kate. It will be really useful."

Curiosity piqued, she unwrapped the ti leaves—and found a fairly nondescript sea shell. It was large, sure. But nothing else recommended it. She frowned up at him, and he laughed at her confused expression.

"I think you lost part of it in the packaging," he explained, rooting around in the ti leaves. "Aha, here it is," he exclaimed, holding up a short piece of twine.

Now Kate was really confused. Was this more jewelry? How could it be for both of them? Rick had reached around the back of the bamboo tree and grabbed a water bottle she'd missed earlier. It was full of a liquid, though she couldn't tell what it was.

"Watch this, Kate."

He sat the shell so it formed a bowl, then poured the liquid in, nearly to the edge. Carefully placing the twine in one end, he then jumped up and ran off to the fire for a second. Turning the chicken, he came back with a twig that was lit on one end. Suddenly Kate understood, and she grinned at him.

He nearly dropped the twig. That smile shouldn't be legal.

"It's an oil lamp," she exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

"Yes, it's an oil lamp. Now we'll be able to see, at least a little, in the tent."

"How did you make it?"

He explained about the candlenut pressing. She shook her head. She really hadn't been paying attention to much of anything recently.

* * *

Dinner was delicious.

Kate was gorgeous.

Rick was ecstatic.

He'd had a great day. Now he knew her story. He hoped she'd continue to be open with him. He wasn't naïve about the situation. She was used to being on her own, even though she hadn't chosen to be that way. They didn't know each other that well, but he wasn't going anywhere. He could be patient. And he knew the next few weeks would be quite hard on her.

Her mood had been much lighter the rest of the night. Not ebullient; far from it. But she talked to him, teased him. He was encouraged, to say the least.

When nightfall came, it was time to try out the shell lamp. After completing their usual rituals, the gathered in front of the kitchen fire pit once more. It was now full dark, and a new moon* at that. Perfect for trying out the light output.

Rick lit the wick and rejoiced at the bright flame that popped up immediately. He carried the shell to the tent, careful to keep it steady. Placing it on the ground between their pallets, he was pleased with the amount of light they had. Not enough to read by, or do much else. But some light where there had been none? It was a true gift; he felt like a king.

"Rick?"

"Yes, Kate?" She was sitting on her bed, looking a bit forlorn.

"I was thinking. Maybe we could put our pallets together?"

Rick stopped breathing. Utterly breathless. Surely to God he'd misheard. Perhaps candle nut oil was a hallucinogen? He held a hand up, saw five fingers. Hmm.

"I mean, if you don't want to, that's fine. I'm not asking to sleep with you. Well, I guess I am. But not to have sex. Just as friends."

The bellows of his chest moved, oxygen was restored. He could speak. "Are you sure? You won't be uncomfortable?"

She looked down, twisting some hair between her fingers in discomfort.

"I was just thinking you make me feel so safe."

"Ok. I'm glad," he smiled, trying to encourage her.

The hair was twisted a bit tighter.

"And I've been having nightmares."

Ah, the crux of the matter.

"You think you won't have any if we're sleeping next to each other?"

"Or at least not as many. And when I wake up, I won't feel so scared."

Not that he really needed convincing, but that last part galvanized him into action and soon their beds were no longer separated.

Ten minutes later, Rick was lying on his back, grinning in the dark and marveling at the events of the day. He would never have imagined that Kate would be lying next to him, even in his wildest dreams. Yet here she was. He was the luckiest guy in the world.

"Rick?"

"Yes, Kate?"

"You're still awake?"

"Yes."

She was silent for a second, so he turned onto his side, to face her. He couldn't see her, it was that dark. But it made him feel closer to her.

"Did you want to ask me something, Kate?"

She stirred, restless.

"Well, I was just thinking."

"Yeah?"

"Well, I told you all about my life and what happened to me. I was just wondering—you're from New York, too. But I have no idea why you came to the South Pacific or how you came to be working on the _Iriata_."

Rick rolled, returning to his back and stifled a groan. He was the unluckiest guy in the world.

* * *

***Christmas day, 1999 in the Southern Hemisphere was actually a just-waning moon. I took a liberty here for the story. Sorry.**


	24. Chapter 24: Men Have it So Easy

**This chapter is dedicated to cymru64. Sender of wonderful reviews and PMs, often with specific points of interest or things that were particularly enjoyed. Love hearing from you, and look forward to your thoughts on new chapters!**

* * *

December, 1999

Rick lay still for a minute, searching for the right words. He didn't want any misunderstanding to mar how open she'd been with him.

"You're right, Kate. You don't know much about me. And I want nothing more than to tell you all about my life, share why I'm here. But it's long and complicated. Much of it due to my own poor choices. I don't want to take anything away from you, or from honoring your mom's life. I think it better to talk about my stupidity after we get through the next few weeks."

He could hear her breathing evenly. She didn't seem too upset. He really did want her to know more about him, but he was afraid that if she knew the truth about him, about his previously profligate lifestyle, that she wouldn't be interested in knowing more. Or worse, would hate him.

"Did you murder someone?" she whispered.

"What?!"

"Are you wanted for a crime?"

He started laughing, not meaning to make fun of her, rather the idea. Him, murder.

"Only on paper," he quipped.

"Huh?"

He laughed again, knowing his cryptic comment would only make her more confused.

"I'm not wanted for any crimes, though I was arrested once, when I was younger."

"You were? For what?"

He pursed his lips, sighing. Hoped she wouldn't think less of him.

"I might have stolen a police horse."

"Rick!" she exclaimed, somehow accurately finding his chest in the dark with a light slap. "What were you thinking?"

Reassured by her light tone, he continued in the same vein.

"I was drunk at the time. And I was just borrowing it. I might have gotten away with just a warning if it hadn't been for the complaints of an uptight old maid."

"Did you run her over with the horse?"

"No, not exactly."

"Trample her flower bed?"

"No."

"I know! The horse left a calling card and she stepped in it?"

"No, nothing like that. We were in Central Park, though thankfully one of the less populated paths."

"Then why did she have it in for you? Surely it was the horse's rider that was the injured party, not some random old lady."

"Well, I think it had something to do with the fact that I was naked at the time."

The peals of her laughter, unheard for weeks, made recounting the embarrassing story worth it. He cherished the sound.

"So, other than scandalizing little old ladies and stealing police ponies, no other crimes?"

Resisting the urge to say something stupid like 'breaking girls' hearts', he simply reassured her he was a legal and upright citizen.

"Why did you think I might have been a criminal, anyway?" He was curious about her thought process. He certainly didn't act like a criminal; he'd had the respect of all his shipmates. He couldn't understand why she'd even think he was running from the law.

She shifted on the mattress, suddenly the one uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation.

"Don't be mad, but it was something that Grollet said."

"Grollet? The man who tried to kill us?" His voice rose as a flash of anger seared him. Why would she listen to something _that_ man said?

"Yes, Grollet, the man who tried to kill us. Listen, I haven't forgotten that part. Believe me, I'll _never_ forget that piece of our story. But he kept wondering why you were halfway around the world, working on a cargo ship, and it made me think. I mean, people running from their past might do something like that."

Trying to keep his anger in check, he answered. His forcibly even tones betrayed the emotion.

"Kate, I'm not running from the law. I have my reasons, and I'll tell them to you in time. Whatever Grollet suspected me of doing pales in comparison to what he did to us."

"You're right, and I'm sorry I mentioned him. I was just so frustrated with you at times back then, and he probably saw I was vulnerable to suggestion."

"I'll admit we had some piss-poor communication going on back then. Anapa and Hina both knew what I was doing, why I was there. I didn't think it was anyone else's business. Certainly not Grollet's."

She stiffened a little; he felt her withdraw, so rushed to cover the accidental insult.

"You definitely deserve to know as well, Kate. But I'm not proud of the story, and there are some things that may upset you. Nothing criminal. Just really poor choices. I wish I'd lived a more exemplary life; I hate to disappoint you. But I suppose if I had led a perfect life, we wouldn't be here, together."

She relaxed again, comforted by his words and the emotion tangible in his voice.

"Rick, the past is the past. It serves to remind us of what we did, who we were. But it's not who you are now. When I look at you, I see a man who saved my life, in many ways. Physically, from a sinking ship. Who taught me to survive. And who just today reminded me there is at least one person in the world that cares about me. So, I understand why you want to wait to talk about your past. I love that you want to concentrate on my mom for now, and I think you're right. But when we do talk about all this, nothing you say will make me think less of you. You're here now, with me. The past has no bearing, other than how it brought us together."

Rick reached over and stroked her arm in silent thanks, then rolled onto his back again. As sleep claimed him, he could only think about how he really was the luckiest man alive.

* * *

The week that followed Christmas was a bit of a roller coaster in their relationship. Rick thought he would be able to avoid some of the stupid statements he was sometimes prone to make, now that he was aware of the root cause of Kate's grief. He thought Kate would talk to him, now that she'd opened up about her mother's death. He wasn't prepared for a very moody Kate that snapped at him every time he opened his mouth.

After a long morning hearing snarky comment after snarky comment, he'd had enough.

"Kate, what is your problem today?"

They were working together, weaving leaves to make some large baskets that they needed for various projects. He'd shown her how to weave, and she'd picked it up very quickly. The baskets would be very useful, but it was also practice for the mats that would be used as walls and dividers in the shelter, which he would be starting soon.

He'd enjoyed teaching her how to weave; she was much better at it than he was, once she understood the concept. However, her bad mood was making him uncomfortable, and he was ready to go back and do something solitary for the day. Like harvesting bamboo. Or striking his head repeatedly on a rock.

"Nothing," she retorted, continuing her rapid weaving. She was already faster than he was.

"I can see something is bothering you. Did I do or say something that upset you?"

She muttered unintelligibly.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Rick. You won't understand."

"Try me. I can be very understanding."

She was silent. He couldn't reconcile the Kate today from the one who'd sat in his arms three days ago sobbing hysterically. Women!

"Do you want me to go do something else? You're better at this than I am and there are lots of jobs that I could be doing."

More muttering, though he made out part of the end, "…suit yourself."

Throwing down the thick leaves he'd been using, he stood up and stretched.

"Ok, I'll leave you alone. I'm gonna go use the outhouse then go cut some more bamboo."

This time he heard most of what she said. It included the lovely phrase "…like I give a rat's ass what he's doing every minute of the day." Taking that as permission to leave, he walked off to the outhouse building, contemplating the great mystery that women present.

He'd only ever _technically_ lived with his mother, though growing up around the theater had exposed him to a lot of other females. Mostly, they'd ignored him. So, while he could say with confidence that he loved women, loved spending time with them in general, he could also say that he'd never wanted to live with one. Now, he had no choice in the matter.

All of his previous relationships with girlfriends had been brief, with the exception of Kyra and Meredith. Kyra hadn't ever lived with him; her mother wouldn't allow it. They did spend a lot of time together, but no more than a night or two a week.

Meredith had been a far more official relationship than the one with Kyra. She'd maintained her own place, but had essentially lived with him for the last several months of their relationship. However, he'd hardly ever seen her out of makeup, let alone at her worst. She was always 'on' around him, playing the part of an elegant woman with a relentless sex drive. He'd looked no further into her personality.

So, besides his mother, Kate was the only woman he'd spent day and night with; it had been a month essentially. And he had absolutely no idea what to do with her. It was maddening, frustrating. Yet, he was going to have to deal with her and vice versa. It wasn't like they had a viable alternative. And thinking about his ex-girlfriends reminded him he had yet to discuss his past with Kate. What a fun conversation that was going to be if she remained this moody.

He admired his outhouse structure once again as he approached. He'd learned a lot putting it together, knowledge he'd now apply to the much larger shelter. He was justifiably proud of coming up with a great solution to their waste management issue. It looked good, it was sturdy, and it served an essential purpose.

He'd brought a scoop of wood ash with him; they used it in the hole after each visit to help with odor control and to speed degradation. One of the baskets Kate was weaving would be put to use to shuttle larger amounts of ash to the outhouse so they didn't have to carry it with them each trip.

Setting down the bowl of ash on the floor, he turned and caught sight of a cardboard box on the floor that he hadn't seen before. Out of curiosity, he picked it up.

Oh.

Ooohhhhh. Suddenly Kate's surly attitude was explained. He was holding a box of tampons. And it was at least halfway empty. She must have grabbed them in her private items from the boat. And it didn't appear that there would be any for next month. Glad he wasn't a woman, he started thinking of ways to broach the topic. This wasn't something he'd ever have thought about as an issue. Yet, to her, it was a huge problem. Thank God he'd spent so much time with Hina during his voyages in the last year.

* * *

"Hey Kate, that basket looks great."

She was still where he'd left her, though she had made quite a bit of progress on the basket. It really did look quite nice. Certainly functional.

Her only reply was a grunt. Not much of an opening.

"So, you're doing so well with the weaving, I'm sure we'll be able to use your skills for other items too."

Another grunt.

"And the rope we've been able to twist; it will come in handy with the shelter."

He knew he was babbling, but he wasn't sure how to bring up such a sensitive topic.

"Didn't you say you were going to go do something?" she finally asked.

Giving her a winning smile that was wasted when she didn't look up, he tried some charm. "Yeah, well, I decided to spend more time with you."

"Lucky me," she muttered to the grass in her hand.

"Listen, Kate. I wanted to talk about something."

She stopped weaving and finally looked up at him after he wouldn't continue.

"What? Spit it out, or let me work."

"Yeah, see…it's kind of personal."

"Well, Rick, I'm no therapist. So whatever it is, you're going to either have to tell me or sort it out yourself."

She bent back down to weaving, clearly preferring the latter option over the former. He couldn't see her face; today her hair was worn down and it curtained over her, obscuring her from his view. He surmised this was deliberate, as it sure didn't look like it would be a comfortable way to weave. It was her way of hiding from the world. And right now, the world consisted only of him.

Should he be direct? Or dance around the topic? This was decidedly not something he wanted to be discussing, but they were going to have to deal with living on a remote island with very few modern conveniences available. And since she had no one else to turn to, he was somehow elected as the font of knowledge about this particular area. God save them both.

"So, Kate? I couldn't help but notice there was a box of tampons in the outhouse." He'd decided on the direct approach. Rip off the band aid and all that.

She stopped all movement, but didn't look up. She looked like a frozen figure in one of those anthropology exhibits at a museum: 'Island woman weaving basket.'

"I'm sure this isn't something you really want to talk about, but if we're stuck here for a while this is going to be an issue for you."

She remained frozen. He couldn't tell if she was gigantically pissed or humiliated. Probably both. He plowed on.

"Even if you have more boxes of tampons stashed away, at some point you're going to run out, so I thought I should probably mention what women in the islands generally do. Disposable sanitary napkins are expensive and disposal is difficult."

He thought she took a breath or two, though it was difficult to tell. This didn't need to be a didactic interaction, so he decided to finish his thoughts and let her think about it.

"There are a couple options. One would be to use some of the extra clothes we brought from the ship. Torn into rags, they could be washed and reused. That's what a lot of women in American and Europe did prior to disposable products being available. Some women here use a bundle of grass in their underwear. But by far the majority of women in the islands use sea sponges. I know there are bunches in the outer lagoon, so we could grab some on our next trip out. Probably useful for a lot of things."

She still hadn't moved.

"Ok, well, that was all I had to say. I'm sure this is a bit embarrassing, but it's a natural function and I didn't want you to feel like you were alone trying to figure some of this stuff out. I'll be cutting bamboo."

He spent the rest of the afternoon harvesting the pieces he'd need to start the shelter and floating them down the lakeshore to Pereora. He didn't see Kate again until it was almost time for dinner. She was in a better mood, though not entirely herself.

They spent a quiet evening after they ate busy twisting more fibers into rope. Rick did most of the talking, as usual. He was a gregarious person by nature, and having spent most of the afternoon alone, he was ready to talk.

"We've got enough rope to start the shelter. We'll have to move our little tent somewhere else. I figured we could just string up the tarps under one end of the pergola. That way we'd be close, and we don't need to find a suitable campsite."

"Good idea," Kate grunted. She was focused on her task; as usual much more adept at twisting the fibers together than Rick could ever hope to do. Her dexterity with her fingers made her much better at the tasks like weaving and rope-making.

"I got some of the bamboo we'll need for the framing, but there wasn't enough of the bigger pieces I'd like to use. I think it's time to take a few days and really walk around the island. We've explored the shoreline, but there are large areas of the interior that we haven't seen."

"Sure."

She didn't sound enthused, but she also didn't sound against the idea either. He thought about it for a minute before mentally slapping himself. Now was clearly a time that Kate would not want to be wandering around far from their home camp.

"But I've got a few other projects I'd really like to get done before doing that. Just moving our shelter to the pergola will take a good half day or more if we take the time to try and make it more waterproof than it is right now."

It was still the rainy season, and when he'd set it up originally, he'd been trying to make as much space for them as possible. This had led inevitably to leaks.

"Less rain inside would be nice," she replied, a tiny smirk on her face. It was the first half smile of the day; he rejoiced in its appearance.

"I really need to make my fire-bow system since our matches are being used so frequently. It doesn't take a long time to make, but I want to do it right the first time. And maybe you could make a long, skinny basket to store it in for me? I'll waterproof it with some of the sap from breadfruit trees."

She grunted, which he took as an affirmative.

"We need to make a map of the island as we explore. And I want to clear the path between the shelter site and the outhouse better. I'm going to put up a handrail or something so that it's possible to walk to it in the dark of night without losing the way."

"I'd appreciate that," she murmured. However, his mention of the outhouse reminded her of her current issue and she fell silent once again. They worked another five minutes or so in complete silence before she rose and bid him goodnight. He followed after ensuring the fire was nearly out.

She wasn't in the shelter when he arrived. He lay down, grimacing a bit at how damp everything felt in the humid night air. He really needed to get them into a better shelter.

Sleepless, he was still wide awake when she finally entered the tent ten minutes later. She was nearly silent, thinking he was asleep, so when he whispered goodnight to her after she'd lay down on her adjoining mattress, she startled.

"Night, Rick."

They lay quietly, each wrapped in their own thoughts. Lying so near each other, yet the gulf that currently existed between them seemed too far to cross. All it needed was a bridge. A span of words; communication. He'd tried, Lord knows. But he didn't know Kate well enough to keep from driving her away further with his awkward comments and fumbling attempts to help. Perhaps silence was the best strategy at this point. Perhaps she'd come to him. Perhaps a helicopter would land in the sand tomorrow and take them home. Or drop off a few steaks and burgers.

"Rick?"

Her words so quiet, he nearly didn't notice she'd spoken while he was lost in his own world of thoughts and recriminations.

"Yes, Kate?"

"I just—I—I just wanted to thank you," she rushed out.

"Thank me for what?"

"For—for trying to talk to me today."

"You don't need to thank me for that, Kate. I'm just trying to help."

"I know. This isn't easy for me, any of it. I'm a person who keeps things inside, tucked away and hidden from the rest of the world, and after my mom died and my dad—well, you know what I've told you about that time. But I didn't have anyone to talk to. I didn't let anyone close. I guess I was afraid that I'd lose them too."

"What about Lanie? I thought she was a good friend."

"She is, as close as anyone is. But she was back at school when it all happened, and when she found out and tried to call me I just ignored her. I didn't want to talk to anyone at the time. Couldn't talk to anyone."

"So what happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"I assume she did talk to you at some point. Isn't she the reason you're here now?"

"She came home on break and found me. I suppose enough time had passed at that point that I was able to let her in, just a bit. She knows about my dad; that was impossible to hide. And I guess it's why she convinced me to get away for a while. But I didn't talk to about how I really felt. She knew, I suppose. Some of it. But I couldn't talk, even to her."

"Yet, you talked to me."

She was thankful that this whole conversation was taking place in the dark. It was the cover she needed to feel comfortable enough to say what she wanted to say to him.

"I know. I did. I feel safe with you, safer than I've felt in a long time. But that doesn't change the fact that I'm uncomfortable talking about a lot of things. Especially personal things."

"Like your period?"

Good Lord, the man held nothing back. "Yesss, that would be one example."

"Look, Kate. I know a lot of women don't like to talk about such personal items with men they don't know well. But we're alone here. It's a natural function, and there's nothing we can do about it. I don't think you know this, but I was raised by a single mother. Just me and her. There were a lot of years where we had next to nothing and lived in really tight quarters. She's not one to be very private. In fact, I know more about her personal habits than I want to. But, I think it gave me an insight into women that I wouldn't have had otherwise. It doesn't bother me to talk about these things, so please don't worry you'll be upsetting me somehow."

She replayed his words and the meaning of his message over in her head. It was uncanny how the man knew what to say to her so often. Although, he was also quite talented at saying the wrong thing at the wrong time as well.

"I can't change who I am overnight, Rick. But I promise to try and remember what you've said here tonight. I appreciate the support, I really do. It's just so hard to let someone in, after all that's happened to me."

"I can't imagine what you've been through. I'm not asking for a one eighty in one night. I just want to make sure we're able to talk to each other. You're my entire world right now, like I'm yours. And I want to help you get through the anniversary of your mom's death. I'm not saying it will be easy, or that you're not going to grieve. That wouldn't be healthy and it wouldn't be right. But if you let me, I'll help you through it."

She shifted on her mattress, uncomfortable both physically and mentally. It seemed as though her depression and heartache made her cramping worse.

"I'll try."

"That's all I'm asking. We'll get past January ninth. Collectively. Then we'll be able to move forward with what we need to do here."

"I can't see past it yet, Rick."

"I know. But you will. And we'll do it together."

He reached out and found her hand; she was lying closer to him than he'd thought. He gave her fingers a squeeze, showing his support. Though he couldn't see her, he felt some of the tension leaching out of her body. Soon they were both able to drift asleep, hands still intertwined.

* * *

**Most of the information about menstruation through history and in different parts of the world comes from a website called the Museum of Menstruation, mum dot com. Yes, folks, it is fascinating what you can find on the internet when you look for it. **

**Sorry if this was a topic you were uncomfortable with, or thought I overdid. However, as the woman writing this story, early on in planning this fic I started wondering about the topic of menstruation. Ten years on an island, they'd have to deal with it somehow. And I feel confident in thinking all the women reading this would think of little else as those few tampons disappeared. I simply can't imagine not having access to modern methods of dealing with this. Poor Kate.**


	25. Chapter 25: Y2K and All is Well

**This chapter is dedicated to Chkgun93. I love getting reviews from him because he served in areas all over the world, including the tropics. He's reminisced about some of his experiences in those areas, and it's a true thrill when he lets me know what details I've nailed. Thanks, as always, for the support.**

* * *

December, 1999

Rick spent the next few days finishing all the odd jobs they'd discussed. He moved the tarps of their shelter to the end of the pergola that they planned to use some day as a dining area. He made the tent area smaller than they'd had before; they didn't need as much room now that their pallets abutted each other. This allowed better overlapping of the tarps, and he was able to support the 'roof' tarps more effectively.

He was then able to start clearing the path to the outhouse into a wider avenue. He built a hand rail that was waist high on both sides. He decided to take the time to lay a floor down along the path: since it was dirt, it was prone to becoming quite muddy after it rained. And it rained a lot.

The floor was made quickly, by making it modular. He simply took two lengths of bamboo, about five feet long, and tied them together by laying lengths of more bamboo, about two feet wide, across them like a train track. He used the x-gouge system to fit them together, and used some grass rope that Kate twisted for him to tightly bind it all together. He smeared the two long pieces with breadfruit sap, as they would be in direct contact with the mud. It wouldn't eliminate rot, but it would prolong their lifespan.

Since the pieces were modular, it was then quite simple to lay them along the path. If they ever needed to move the outhouse, they could move the path pieces as well. And as the pieces were all relatively short, he set up a little factory near the kitchen area to make them in bulk. It definitely beat the back-breaking labor that laying a floor directly in the mud would have been.

He was done a few days later. It was now a simple matter to walk to the outhouse from the future shelter. No lamp or light would be needed. He was very proud of his work; it wasn't something that improved their chances of survival, but it definitely made things easier to deal with. They were finally at a point where making life more comfortable was both possible and necessary.

Wandering back to the kitchen once he'd finished admiring his handiwork, he found Kate weaving more baskets under the pergola.

"All done. I think you'll really like it."

She looked up and smiled. God, he loved that smile. And doing things to earn it.

"Great. Thank you; the idea for making a bamboo path to keep out of the mud is something I'll definitely appreciate. I'm so tired of wet feet."

"The rainy season is usually over in March, but that still leaves a few months to deal with lots of mud and humidity."

"I can't wait," she sighed.

"So, when do you want to start our exploration trip?"

"Rick, if you're asking if I can leave Pereora, then the answer is today. I don't need to stick close to camp anymore. Thanks for being so understanding."

"It's no problem, Kate. Do you want to go today? It's still early."

"Actually, I thought we might take the canoe and go to the outer lagoon today. I made up a kind of picnic and gathered some things; we could have a dinner on the little beach out there. I was even thinking we might camp out there, celebrate a little bit."

Rick was puzzled. "What are we celebrating?"

"Surely you know what day it is?"

He did, just hadn't thought she'd want to do anything or acknowledge it in any way. It was so close to her mother's murder date.

"It's New Year's Eve."

"I didn't think you'd want to do anything," he cautioned, watching her for signs of distress. He didn't want her to feel obligated to do anything.

"I normally wouldn't, not with—well, you know," she trailed off, as he nodded sympathetically. "But it's an especially important New Year's Eve, isn't it?"

"It's the last day of the century, Kate." Couldn't help some of his boyish enthusiasm from coloring his words.

"I know. That's why I thought we might do something special."

"If we were in the real world, we'd be all worried about Y2K," he mused. "But there aren't any computers out here."

She laughed, the sound lifting his heart as usual. "No, we don't have to worry about the millennium bug here on a deserted island. Though I wonder what everyone is doing out in the big, wide world."

"Maybe it's a good thing we're here. Can you imagine if all the computers shut down like people are expecting? New York would be a nightmare."

She gave him a rueful look. "I doubt I'd care if I were in New York. I don't think I'd be celebrating anything about this New Year."

"Why is it different here?" He was frankly surprised she'd suggested the trip, let alone celebrating anything. He'd been anticipating that the coming days leading to January ninth would be especially difficult for her.

"Nothing on this island reminds me of my mom, or of my former life. And I'm with you; you make me feel safe. I'm sad and angry my mom is dead, but she wouldn't be here with me if she were still alive." She wiped a few tears from her eyes before continuing.

"For all we've been through, surviving everything we have, I think it's fitting that we celebrate the start of a new year together. Today just feels different to me, though I imagine this next week will be hard. Do you think that's okay?" she asked with a watery smile.

"Yeah Kate, I think it's okay. I didn't know your mom, but from what you've told me about her, I think she'd be really proud of you. How you've come through so much, when many people would have just given up. I'm sure she'll be there celebrating with us."

Kate couldn't speak, too many tears were rolling down her face after Rick's reminder that her mom was still with her in spirit, if not in person. She just nodded, hands covering her face.

"Ok, let's do it. The moon is waxing, so we should have enough room at high tide to be able to camp out," he interjected, trying to lighten the mood a bit. If nothing else, doing something so different for the coming night would help distract Kate from the specter of the coming date in January.

They took a few blankets, some of the baskets that Kate had finished, and food for their meals. A tarp, to use as a makeshift tent, would protect them from the inevitable rain at night and the empty bucket, to bring back any treasures that required water, rounded out their supplies.

* * *

They popped out of the channel in mid-afternoon. It was another sunny day, with a few fluffy clouds scudding across the blue sky. Looking around the vast ocean surrounding their island, Kate was once again disappointed to see nothing. No boat, no sign that anyone ever came near. They made their way quickly to the biggest beach. From their low position in the canoe, they could see no indication of their sign that they'd formed last visit. Deciding not to worry about it, Kate concentrated on enjoying the day with Rick.

Setting up camp beyond the high tide mark, Rick gathered rocks to make a fire ring while Kate smoothed out some sand to set up a tent structure. She went and found some suitable branches to use as poles, but they weren't going to put the tarp up until evening. She just hoped it didn't rain too hard tonight.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in the lagoon. Rick showed her the sea sponge clusters and how to pry them off the rocks where they were anchored. She gathered a dozen good sized sponges for personal use and for the kitchen.

Rick fished and spent some time looking for crabs. They'd brought some raw breadfruit for dinner, but planned to catch the rest of it. While looking for crabs, Rick found some rocks that were just out of the waves. He hadn't noticed them on the previous trip, but was delighted to find they were crusted with tiny crystals. Prying off a few chunks, he ran back to where Kate was exploring.

"Look what I've found," he exclaimed.

She looked at his outstretched hand, not sure what the small crystals were.

"What is it, Rick?"

"Taste it."

"No way."

"C'mon, Kate. Trust me, you'll like it."

She glared at him. It didn't look like something one should taste, but she was sure he wouldn't ask her to taste something awful. Pretty sure, anyway.

"What is it, Rick?" she repeated.

"Kate, just lick it," he whined. He could be such a baby sometimes.

"Fine, but if this makes me sick, you're in trouble."

"It won't make you sick, I promise."

Tentatively picking up one of the small crystals in his outstretched hand, she touched the tip of her tongue to it.

"I don't taste anything?"

"Just put the whole thing in there."

She decided to humor him and popped it in her mouth without any further discussion. A second later she had a huge smile on her face.

"Salt!"

He showed her the rocks and they spent some time prying off as much as they could.

"Is this what native people do for salt?"

"Well, I suppose some might, though it's pretty labor intensive. The crystals are so small. Most people make their own from seawater."

"Could we do that?"

"Sure, but it would take time. We'd need to fill several large buckets of salt water. You have to filter it, which we can do with a cloth, boil it and dry it. It's definitely a project that will take a few days to make a large quantity, but it would be worth the trouble. It'd be nice to have a little salt with the meals."

"Yeah, especially since I used up all the ship's supply preserving the dead chickens when we first left the ship."

"Well, that was very important at the time, but some seasoning for our cooking now would be great."

"You said it would take several days?"

"To make a decent quantity, yeah."

"How would we do that without having access to salt water at Pereora?"

"Well, that's a good question. If we get some large baskets completely waterproofed with our breadfruit sap, we could use them and the bucket to haul water in from the ocean. Or, we could take a few days at some point and come and camp on the beach."

"That might be nice. If we saw any ships or signs of people, we might be rescued."

"We could use the time while the salt is being prepared to fish and dry the fillets to preserve them. Then we'd have a good stock of protein, besides eggs."

"Well, that sounds like the best plan. When do you want to plan this big trip?" she teased. Obviously they weren't going far, but psychologically being away from their base camp made it seem like a journey of some distance.

"The moon is waxing now. Shall we wait until the waning moon in about two weeks?" He wasn't sure how she'd feel about that; it would be just after the anniversary of Johanna Beckett's murder.

"I think that would be fine, Rick," she said, slowly. Her eyes were cast down at the sand, reluctance easy to read in her hunched shoulders. She surprised him when she lifted her head to look directly into his eyes, sincerity pouring from them as she conveyed her next statement. "I'll need to get away for a bit, after. Since we can't go far, this might be the best place to be anyway."

"Are you sure you'll want to be stuck with me on such a small beach? There's nowhere to go if you want to get away."

"I'm not sure, but I think it will be what I need. If I have to go back, you'll understand?" She looked at him with such trust that all he could do was nod wordlessly. He'd do whatever she needed.

* * *

January, 2000

An uncomfortable night spent huddled under the insufficient tarp as rain deluged the spit of a beach eventually gave way to a bright dawn. They'd wanted to see in the New Year by staying up until midnight (or at least what they thought was midnight with Rick's watch. He wasn't sure it was still accurate.), but the rain had driven them under the tarp and they'd fallen asleep to the rhythmic pounding on the plastic that tried to protect them from the downpour.

It was certainly a very different New Year's Eve than Rick's typical celebration as an adult. No debauchery. Not even a kiss at midnight, since they were both asleep by then. Plus he wasn't going to push her, right now at least.

But, it wasn't his first quiet New Year's. He'd celebrated the year before in the South Pacific, having already left New York. He'd simply lost himself in a crowd in Papeete, then melted into the shadows after the clock struck twelve. He'd been at loose ends during those first few weeks here on the other side of the world.

Then Anapa had found him. And his own first year anniversary was coming at the end of January, though he considered his time on the _Iriata_ a blessing. It was the complete opposite of the anniversary Kate was about to observe. Anapa and Hina had shown him how to be a man, helped him grow into the person he was today.

All in all, he quite preferred being able to remember what had happened on the last day of the year, and waking up without a pounding head and in a strange location no longer held any attraction for him.

He'd prepared breakfast for the two of them when Kate made her first appearance.

"Morning."

She gave him a small glare and accepted his offer of some coconut. Typically a morning person, she was a bit grumpy at times. He expected this would worsen as the days rolled inexorably to the date she dreaded more than any other.

"Welcome to the year two thousand. As you can see, the world did not in fact end as predicted. Well, as far as I can tell."

She chewed on her breakfast for a few minutes before a tiny smirk appeared and she deigned to answer him. "You never know, Rick. Maybe we're the last two people alive." There was a tiny lilt to her voice as she teased him. He gave silent thanks. She was trying. He couldn't ask for anything more.

"Well, wouldn't that be a fortunate occurrence for the human race?" he replied, pompous on purpose. His plan did not fail, as she quirked an eyebrow at him.

"How do you figure?"

"Just think of how great looking all humans will be in the future."

She shook her head. "I don't follow you."

He gave a pretend sigh and prepared to run, certain he'd need some distance from her once she processed his next words.

"Well, Kate, it's like this: with a handsome man like me playing the role of Adam, and a beautiful woman like you as Eve, our children will be nothing if not incredible looking. Not to mention smart, with my brains. Our descendants will bring a new level of good looking to the human race." With that, he was off like a shot, though not before being pelted by some coconut.

"Not if you were the last man on Earth," she yelled at him as he sprinted down the beach, laughing.

"I thought you just implied I was," he shouted back, then doubled over in laughter as he saw her expression. Oh, that had been worth it. Very worth it.

She'd forgiven him a few hours later. Well, after she'd managed to trip him in the surf. He'd fallen quite ungracefully, gotten soaked, and came up sputtering with some seaweed covering his head. She'd had her turn laughing until she cried, and they were even.

He reflected on their little trip as they slowly paddled back through the channel. It had been fun, though if they were going to camp for several days they'd need a better shelter. Overall, it had been good for them. He felt like they continued to draw closer to each other, even though there was still a lot they didn't know about each other. It was clear they could rely on each other to survive. Everything else would come with time.

* * *

The next few days after their return were spent exploring fully the interior of the island. It was hard, hot work as some areas were nearly impenetrable with the lush growth engendered by the frequent rain, warm temperatures, and rich, volcanic soil. However, it paid off as they made some exciting discoveries, and for the first time really appreciated how lucky they'd been to find this paradise.

Kate was put in charge of drawing the map on the single piece of paper Rick sacrificed to the cause. She had a better eye for details and was far superior in her artistry. Rick identified plants and they slowly filled in the large blanks that had represented their knowledge of the island past the shore and the plain they'd chosen as their home.

They started by heading east from Pereora, towards the bamboo thicket near the lakeshore that Rick had been harvesting from. Marching through the trees, they moved north until they came to the insurmountable cliffs that cut the island off from the sea.

"Most of these trees are ones we've seen before."

"I think I recognize them all. That's candlenut, right?" she asked, pointing to the correct tree.

"Yep. And I know you're familiar with that kind," he said, indicating another grouping of trees near the cliff wall.

"Breadfruit. I gather enough of those, I hope I recognize them. This looks like a bigger cluster though. I'm going to mark them down on the map."

"May I suggest using symbols, instead of the names? Then it would be easier to mark lots of types of plants."

"That's a good idea. We can make a key, so we don't forget." She quickly marked the two groves, then marked the banana plants that were interspersed. As they wandered back towards shore the Pandanus trees took over in number.

They continued to meander back and forth from the shore to the cliff, trying to accurately represent the terrain and the flora found between the two. Besides finding more sweet potato patches, the ubiquitous coconut palms, and a small group of taro in a shallow pond, they also found more bamboo. Not just any bamboo; giant bamboo. Located in a grove near the cliff walls just east of the grove Rick had been harvesting. It was clearly older, with some very large specimens.

"Look at these, Kate. These would be perfect for support poles for our new house." He could hardly believe the size.

Kate nodded, running her hand over one of the large stems. It was so big around that she couldn't span it with both her hands.

"You're right, but there's a problem. Maybe a deal breaker."

"What's that?" Rick was still lost in thought, marveling over the things he could do with such enormous poles.

"We're at the cliff wall. The lake is several hundred yards away."

"Uh huh."

"How are you going to get these huge pieces to the lake?"

Rick sobered. She had a point.

"Wellll, I could—no that wouldn't work. We could carry them out together?" Her skeptical look made him continue. "Or I guess I'll have to clear a path to the lake before I start harvesting."

"That might take a while. Maybe we should keep looking. We know where this grove is, maybe there's one closer to the lake?"

"I hope so, because these are so large, it would take probably an extra week or two to get a path cleared. And then moving them. It would be a real chore to drag them to the lake. But just look at 'em, Kate. They're huge," he said, patting one of the larger stems almost reverently.

"They are impressive, there's no doubt. But maybe this isn't uncommon here on this island."

"Wow, that would be exciting. You're right though, we need to keep looking. Who knows what else we'll find?"

* * *

The second day of their explorations found them almost halfway to the channel opening. Kate was busy recording the location of trees. She was focusing intently on the task, trying to keep busy so she didn't think about the fact that there was a week left until a year had passed from the worst day of her life.

"Kate, Kate!" She heard Rick crying out. He'd forged ahead of her, impatient to see what lay beyond the next rise, while she lagged behind being careful to record everything.

Rushing forward, she found him standing stock-still, staring up at a tree she didn't recognize.

"What is it?"

"It's a Noni tree."

"A what-ee tree?"

"Noni. No-knee."

"Noni tree? That sounds familiar. Have you told me about it before?"

"No, I don't think so. You probably heard it on the ship. Hina had a supply in her workshop."

"Oh, that's right. She mentioned it once, but we talked about so many things. It was all a bit overwhelming for this city girl."

"Well, it's pretty important here in the islands. It's been used by the native people for a variety of things. Do you see the fruits?"

He pointed to some green to yellow green globules that hung directly from the tiny branches.

"Yeah. They kind of look like green strawberries."

"I suppose. People eat them if they're starving. They're too bitter to eat regularly otherwise. But the juice is used on dry skin or chapped lips. It's also good for skin scrapes. And many women drink the juice for menstrual cramps."

"Sounds useful."

"Yeah, we want to gather the yellow-green ones. The ones that have turned white are too ripe."

They gathered just a few. "A little goes a long way, Kate."

It was the first purely medicinal plant that they'd found. Other trees and shrubs had properties that the islanders used for treating the sick, but the Noni was reserved nearly exclusively for alleviating various ailments. It didn't replace their lack of modern medicines, but Kate felt a little better knowing they had access to some of the same plants that had served for thousands of years before Western medicine had come to the South Pacific.

The next four days were spent in careful deliberation and observation. Rick was excited to find some Tahitian limes, which he said were similar to key limes. They would add vitamin C to their diet, and Kate was excited about the added flavors when they cooked.

By the time they finished their map, they had a complete record of what plants existed on the island and where they were located. They found more bamboo, but none as large as the ones near the cliff wall. Rick was determined to use the strongest material for their shelter, and resigned himself to the fact that harvesting what he wanted to use would take longer than expected.

At no point did they find any break in the cliff walls, nor any place that seemed easier to scale. Rick considered climbing the area near the waterfall, as it was the tallest point of the island, but the walls near there were slick with mosses and ferns. He gave up after nearly falling while just ten feet off the ground. Luckily, Kate had been busy with the map and didn't see the near miss.

They finished everything on January eighth. Rick thought it had been timed out perfectly. Kate had been distracted by the project during the day, and exhausted by all the labor so that she fell asleep almost immediately at night. He'd wanted to finish before the ninth, knowing it wouldn't be fair to her to try and take that day away from her.

By the afternoon of the eighth, there were no crucial jobs left to do. He could see the weight of the coming day pressing down on her as they retreated back to Pereora. He wasn't sure how to help her. He didn't think she knew what she wanted from him, either. Deciding to trust his instincts, he remained quiet. He thought she'd come to him if she needed him. He'd be happy to provide a strong shoulder to cry on.

His first clue that this was the wrong approach came that night. She'd crawled into her bed under the tarps in the pergola before it was even dark. He'd declared he was in charge of their food for the next few days, wanting to let her out of the mind-numbing chores so she could grieve in peace. Yet, she'd been silent at the dinner he'd prepared, and had barely touched the food. He'd thought it was delicious, using a bit of the salt he'd found and some of the limes to flavor the fish stew.

She'd completely ignored him when he came to bed as well. He might have thought she was asleep, except she was too still. Her body was tense, curled into a ball facing away from his bed. He reached out and placed a warm hand on her shoulder and whispered a 'night, Kate' to her back. He was trying to let her know he was there for her without intruding into her private world too much. She didn't respond, and he was asleep within minutes, the long labor of their days catching up with him.

He slept fitfully, fully expecting nightmares from her; they weren't unusual and as the calendar had rushed towards this date, she'd had more of them. Blood-curdling screams that startled him out of sound sleep. He comforted her as best he could, but he couldn't take the place of a beloved mother who'd meant the world to her. So, he was just there for her. A calming voice in the dark of night. It seemed to help, marginally. Yet on this night, of all nights, there were no nightmares. No screaming woke him.

It was the silence that finally registered in his sleep-addled brain. The absence of screams was just as important to his mind as their presence. Something was wrong.

Dawn hadn't broken yet, and it was pouring rain once again. However, there was just enough light to see around the tent. He wasn't sure why he had awakened until he looked over at Kate's mattress. Her screams weren't the only thing absent from the dark night. She was gone.

* * *

**A site I've referred to extensively for their excellent survival articles is Hedgehog Leatherworks. This is where I learned about the x-gouge system for making a structure easier to put together and much stronger, rather than just lashing two poles together. They also have great articles about making cordage from natural materials and the firebow system that Rick makes.**


	26. Chapter 26: Jan 9th and All is Not Well

**This chapter is dedicated to SeriouslyCarol, who has been very supportive of this story. I always appreciate her reviews and comments about how I've done with plot development and/or dialog. Thanks for reading and for letting me know what you thought of a chapter!**

* * *

April, 2010

Martha paused her reading, wiping her eyes surreptitiously and looking out the window so no one would notice her crying. It was both comforting and agonizing to read her son's story of his first weeks as a castaway.

Comforting because she was so proud of his obvious skills and ability to survive. He'd saved himself and Katie; clearly they had made it for ten years, with challenges she couldn't begin to imagine from the comfort of her home in New York or the cushy seat of her first class ticket.

Agonizing, because she'd missed so much time with him. Her heart ached for what he'd been through, for the fact that he was now incarcerated in an attempt to protect the woman that he obviously loved. She didn't know this Richard, this man that her boy had grown into. But she couldn't wait to see him; get to know him all over again.

The Richard she'd known had been a good boy; a great son. She'd long felt guilty about the lack of a father figure in his life, and her career as an actress had resulted in some very lean years for them when he was a child. They'd always been close, though perhaps less so as he'd grown and found such success on his own merits. Oh, how impressed she'd been when he finally sold his first book, then sat back in awe as it rocketed him to fame.

The cost of celebrity at such a young age hadn't registered with her until she noticed how often he was drunk or high. The parade of women she'd initially ignored, figuring it his due. Especially after the heartache of Kyra leaving him. And Martha had been busy, a newlywed: her second marriage. By the time she understood her son was in trouble, he was already neck deep and sinking fast. His fight back to sobriety had shown her how much he was capable of, though even after he'd conquered those demons he'd still seemed unhappy. Then the devil herself walked into his life, in the form of Meredith.

Martha felt responsible, in a way, for the debacle. Or at least for their initial meeting. Richard had been attending one of her cast parties for a play that had debuted to a better than expected opening. Meredith was at the party, having accompanied a friend. Richard was smitten immediately with the vivacious red haired beauty. Martha disliked her on sight. She was too shallow, too artificial for her son. But mothers rarely have much influence over who their children fall for, and Martha had kept her mouth shut. Most of the time, anyway.

The two had been inseparable, initially. Things had progressed far more quickly than with Kyra, though obviously Meredith didn't have disapproving parents breathing down her neck. Martha had been certain it was a relationship that combusted rapidly, but was destined to burn out just as quickly.

To her eternal surprise, Richard shocked her by going out and buying a ring. He told his mother all about his plans to propose, and why he wanted to marry Meredith. For the first time, Martha risked taking a stand about the woman. This was a mistake, and she didn't want to see her son suffer the heartache that was bound to occur if he married her. This did not go well, and he stayed mad at Martha for weeks.

Whatever might have happened between them would forever be a mystery; they broke up about two weeks later. Richard was quite upset. Martha was just relieved he'd never gotten around to asking Meredith to marry him. In Martha's opinion, Richard had become sober, thanks to God, only to nearly fall into a trap laid out by an ambitious woman. Meredith didn't care about him as a person, only what he could do for her career. He was rich, successful, and handsome. On his arm, she would get far more attention than she would garner on her own.

The issue was that her son was still in many ways the emotional equivalent of a child. While he was a great success by every measure professionally, he had yet to figure out how to manage his personal life as a mature adult. Martha blamed herself; she'd obviously not done enough to help him succeed emotionally.

Thus, when he decided he was going off into the world to research his next character, she was relieved. Perhaps the time away from New York, all its base temptations, would be good for him. Seeing how the rest of the world lived and worked would open his eyes; his success was hard earned, but came so easily to him. She didn't think he appreciated how lucky he was.

So, she'd thrown her support behind him and the trip abroad. His publisher and book agent had been appalled. Both rejected the idea, and Martha sensed Richard was scared to leave. Scared of what he'd find: in himself and in the big, bad world. It felt like she'd shoved him on the plane. He'd chosen Tahiti as his initial destination. She had no idea why, but it sounded like paradise to her, so she'd waved goodbye and hoped for the best.

Communication wasn't easy, at least by phone. Cellular technology was quite basic at that time in the U.S., and pretty much non-existent in French Polynesia. He'd used a calling card from his hotel a few times to call her, but their time was limited and the difference in the time zones made it especially awkward. So, she'd taken up the pen and paper. It wasn't something she enjoyed, as she wasn't much of a writer, preferring to see and hear someone. But she knew Richard appreciated her efforts.

She'd expected he'd be gone a few weeks, maybe a month. And he seemed quite homesick, at first. A month passed, and she started wondering when he'd return. After six weeks, his letters home noted he'd be coming back soon. He thought he had enough background for his new character, a man of action he was calling Derrick Storm. Martha was thrilled, missing him more than she'd thought possible.

Then, something changed. She got a call, an _actual_ _phone call_, from him around the two month mark. He'd taken a job! On a _ship_, no less. He'd tried reassuring her that it was for more character research, but she couldn't fathom his reasoning. He was working as a common laborer. There was nothing wrong with the job itself, she just didn't understand why Richard felt the need to do such hard work.

His letters were by necessity less frequent, though longer. As a consummate story teller, he painted life on the ship with such marvelous descriptions that she felt like she was there in the middle of the ocean with them. It was clear that he revered and respected the captain, Anapa, and his wife, Hina. They shone through Richard's letters as decent, caring people.

Now that she'd had a chance to read Richard's depiction of his last days on the ship and his subsequent survival, Martha realized just how great a role that relationship had played in her son's life. He'd learned the skills necessary to survive directly from Anapa and Hina. She hadn't been able to meet the captain in person. There had been complications from his broken leg, and he had died on the island where they'd sought medical care for him. Martha had been too wrapped up in her own grief at the time to pay much attention.

She had no idea what had happened to Hina, though the absence of her name in all the communications with Afaitu made Martha suspicious Hina had also passed on. Or was not capable of participating in the quest to free Richard.

Sighing, she glanced back at the lap top in front of her, full of Richard's story. She knew what came next; not the details, but the emotions that the date of January ninth brought to the surviving members of the Beckett family. Martha happened to seek out Jim around this same time. She'd known his daughter had been lost on the ship along with Richard, yet she hadn't seen him in Papeete when she'd traveled there seeking answers.

Thinking it odd that he'd ignored the loss of his only child, Martha had tracked him down. Wondering if he somehow didn't know, or was physically incapable of traveling. She'd found her first supposition wrong and the second true. Not due to a handicap or physical limitation. The man was drunk out of his mind.

Martha hadn't realized until weeks later that Johanna's death had occurred nearly one year to the day that she found Jim Beckett passed out on the floor of his living room. Through the following years, as she cheered his recovery and his re-entry back into the world, she marveled that he'd survived the loss of the two most important people in his life. He struggled; both he and Martha no longer celebrated much for the holidays. The kids had been lost just after Thanksgiving, and Christmas no longer felt like a time to rejoice when your only child was lost at sea, presumed dead. For Jim, Christmas was doubly agonizing, with the date of January ninth looming over everything.

No, the end of the old year and the start of the new was not an easy time for either Martha or Jim. And she knew without a doubt that this first anniversary of Johanna's murder, that period of time that Richard was writing about, was going to be very difficult. For both he and Katie. Her son was such a great storyteller, she felt like she was reliving it all one more time.

Looking at her watch, she saw there were still hours to go in the flight. She turned back to the screen. It would not be easy to read about, but in the end she would have some insight into how the two of them had managed to survive together for so long.

* * *

January, 2000

Rick jumped up, looking around the tent wildly. Where could she have gone? He crawled out of the tarps, only to realize it wasn't just raining. It was pouring. Hard. It was too dark to see much, and the added deluge didn't help matters. She wasn't in the kitchen area. He wondered then if she'd simply needed to use the outhouse. He made his way slowly though the clearing of their future home, then found the newly built path on the far side.

Never gladder of the bamboo trail he'd laid a few days ago, he followed the handrail and bamboo floor tiles to the outhouse. It was empty. He felt his gut clench. He knew what day it was, knew she was hurting. He didn't think she was suicidal, but Kate played things close to the vest.

Turning around, he made his way back to the pergola. She was still missing. Remembering that she'd run to the beach by the lake the other times she'd been emotionally overwhelmed, he decided to look there next.

He nearly stumbled over her; she was huddled in a tight ball, almost invisible in the rain.

"Kate? What are you doing out here?" he shouted, trying to be heard over the downpour.

There was no answer, no movement. He couldn't see her face, she was coiled so tightly around herself.

"Kate!" He reached down to touch her, but she still was motionless. He squeezed his fingers between her chin and chest; not an easy task due to how stiffly she was curled. To his profound relief, she had a pulse. Though it was racing. He wondered if somehow she was in the throes of a nightmare.

He tried shaking her, calling her name again and again. Nothing seemed to penetrate. It was as if she were a turtle, wrapped imperviously in her shell. Or a pill bug that had been poked a few too many times. He knew he couldn't leave her out in the rain, so he carefully scooped her up in his arms and made the long slog back to the pergola.

Once he got her out of the rain, he tried again to get her to respond to him. Nothing he did seemed to work, though he soon saw she was shaking with the cold. He dug through the pile of linens and towels they'd brought with them from the ship. Most of them were damp; it was impossible to keep them dry with the high humidity and near constant rain. But, they were better than nothing.

He started drying her off, but it wasn't much help with her wet clothes still on. Sitting back on his heels, he considered his options. She was shivering. She was wet, and needed to be dried off. There was no way to build a fire under the tarp, and having one outside would be useless, if not impossible. Once again he cursed the fact that they had no permanent shelter, and mentally reminded himself he still needed to completely roof the area of the kitchen over the firepit.

She would likely be quite angry at him if he took her clothes off, but the thought of her suffering so deeply that she didn't realize what was even happening to her physically shook him. He'd come to care a lot about Kate, and for the first time in his life found himself wishing he could take her pain on himself. He'd do anything to make her feel better, even at his own cost. But there was no time to think about the implications of these realizations: he had to act. And if she hated him for undressing her, well, at least he'd know it had been done to help her. To save her.

He carefully peeled off her wet clothes. It wasn't easy, since she was still stiff and unyielding. There was no way he'd be able to dress her in real clothes: her wet, clammy skin made putting anything on impossible. He went for the simple look, wrapping her in one of the spare sheets they'd carefully preserved. It wasn't thick enough to do much for heat conservation, so he then moved her to his mattress.

Peeling off his own wet clothes, he quickly patted his own body dry…well, drier, anyway…and put on a fresh pair of shorts and a t-shirt. He then enveloped her small, cold body with his, wrapping his arms around her and trying to transfer as much of his heat to her. As he lay there, his contemplated his earlier thoughts about how he really felt about her.

He'd never met anyone like Kate Beckett. She was young, but there was a maturity there that people ten years older lacked. Undoubtedly, it was due in no small part to the event that had irrevocably changed her life a year ago to the day. She'd been deeply battered and bruised over her mother's murder, the lack of progress on solving it, and her father's alcoholism. But she still fought on, still kept swinging.

Then she'd found herself deliberately locked inside a sinking ship by a snake after she rejected his unwanted sexual advances. Many people would have given in to despair at that point, but Kate had trudged on, proving herself beyond measure when Rick had found her and they'd worked together to escape the doomed _Iriata_.

Stranded on an island with no modern conveniences, she'd worked as hard as he had to survive, carve a life out of the jungle. All this despite the fact that the day that marked one year since she'd last seen her mother loomed over her. Rick had seen the weight of her grief; it was impossible for her to hide it, and she'd broken down several times. He marveled that she'd felt comfortable enough to confide in him. It had brought them closer than ever.

And now, after finding her curled up in the rain, he realized he loved her. Deeply, unequivocally loved her. This wasn't anything like what he'd felt for Meredith; that had been lust, coupled with the desire to have a family. Even his relationship with Kyra, who he'd always considered to be his long lost true love, paled in comparison to what he felt for Kate.

He admired her: she soldiered beside him, doing work she'd never done before without complaint. He respected her: she was the most intelligent woman he'd ever talked to, and could banter with him without resorting to trite comments. He grieved for her: the intense pain she'd borne over the last year would have put most people into a deep depression. He liked her: he enjoyed spending time with her, being in her company. He cared for her: he would willingly carry any and all of her torments.

These weren't feelings he'd ever had for another person, which ultimately led to the realization that he loved her. He would sacrifice himself to keep her safe. Would walk away from her if it meant she would be happy without him. He finally knew what true love meant; every other relationship with a woman had been a mere infatuation. And as her shivering abated with his body wrapped around her, he slipped back into sleep, thrilled he could play a small part in comforting her on this day.

* * *

Kate was drowning. Absence of light added to the terror. She was bone-chillingly cold and the only feeling outside of her fear was that of water: surrounding her, seeping into her pores and all of her orifices. She didn't know which way to turn, where to seek shelter. It was as though she were held in place by some unseen force; though she struggled to move, it was in vain.

Just as she was about to succumb to the black water, she felt a warmth steal about her. The water stopped pouring in as rapidly, then even the small trickle it had been reduced to stopped as well. She was still cold, but the panic over drowning receded. Next, warmth crept over her whole body. Soon it felt as though she was lying next to a heater, and it chased out the glacial congelation that had replaced the blood in her veins. She welcomed the inferno, gave herself over to the fire to be consumed by the heat, instead of immersed in the frigid depths. Her last thought was to wonder if she was perhaps meant to be a phoenix. And to hope she'd be reborn stronger the next time.

* * *

Several hours later, Kate stirred languidly. She was pinned under a heavy, warm weight. If it had been a hard surface, she might have envisioned she was a lizard basking under the heat radiating from bricks baked in the sun. But this surface was too soft to be made of bricks.

She wriggled, just a bit and heard a grunt. Realization flooded her as she recognized that she was captured in the embrace of a person. And given there was only one person on the island with her, it didn't take any of her nascent detective skills to figure out who it was. Yet, any indignation she might have raised against Rick for his temerity was quickly doused by her next realization.

What the date was today.

The ninth of January.

Johanna was dead.

One year.

Today.

* * *

A keening wail awoke Rick. He thought Kate was having a nightmare until he felt her melting into him, instead of thrashing about.

"Kate? It's okay, I've got you," he crooned, holding her tighter.

Kate cried harder, but allowed him to pull her into his body. He felt like an anchor in a storm tossed sea, and she craved the stability he provided.

"She's really gone," she sobbed. "I miss her so much."

"I know, Kate, I know," he soothed, stroking her hair and just hoping he was _something_ of a comfort to her. Someone who helped by _being_ there for her.

"I wish she was here, wish that I could talk to her. Even for a day," she stuttered out between wracking sobs.

"What would you tell her?"

"That I, I—love her. So much. I didn't tell her that enough."

"Oh, Kate. I think we all forget to say things like that to the people we love. But she knew it, she did. You showed her how much you loved her."

"How? How would you know what I showed her?"

"Well, you were going to school to become a lawyer, just like her. I'll bet she was so proud of you, going to Stanford. Wanting to do the same thing she did."

"She was. Proud of me."

"See, she knew you loved her. You don't have to say it, for someone to know it."

"But I wish I had said it. And spent more time with her. God, Rick, half the time during that break was spent with friends. I wanted to see all the people from high school that I left behind, but I didn't know she'd be leaving _me_ behind. Why did she die? It's my fault," she cried, her sobs more forceful as she let guilt wash over her for ignoring her parents during her winter break.

"Kate, it's not your fault she died. Why would you even think that?"

"If I'd spent more time with her, maybe she wouldn't have ever been in that alley."

"No, Kate, no. You don't know that. You didn't cause her death. It's not your fault."

She cried for her mother. Cried for her father. Cried for herself.

He held her tight through it all, until she'd cried for so long, all that was left were some gasping sobs. He kept stroking her hair through it all, remembering the comfort the arms of his own mother had provided to him when he'd been hurt by the world at large.

Sensing the worst of her tears were past, he ventured a question into the quiet morning.

"Do you need anything? Want something to eat, or to drink?"

"No, not right now," she quavered. "Just hold me, like you've been doing."

"No problem," he reassured. Thanked the heavens above she wasn't trying to run from him. That she wanted to be in his arms.

He held her for another ten minutes or more. Thinking perhaps she'd cried so hard that she'd fallen asleep in exhaustion. He discovered he was wrong when he tried to reposition their bodies, as his arm was falling asleep underneath her.

"Do you need to get up?" she whispered, voice hoarse.

"No, just moving so I can hold you better."

"Thank you, Rick, for all that you've done for me."

"It's not a problem, Kate. You'd do the same for me."

"Would I? I don't know. I'm much more reserved than you are."

"Yes, that's true. But your empathy overcomes any reserve you might have. I've not known you for very long, but I've seen you with Hina, and with Anapa after his accident. You have a remarkable talent for helping people, Kate Beckett. So, I know you'd do the same for me, because I've already seen you in action."

"I—I'd forgotten about that."

"You've had a lot on your mind lately."

"I'm so scared I'm going to forget," she whispered, voice barely audible even in the close confines of the tent.

"You'll never forget her, Kate."

"No, I didn't mean…I didn't mean I'd forget her as a person. As my mom. But I'm terrified I'll forget what her voice sounded like. How she smelled of her favorite perfume, Eternity, when she dressed up. But that her normal smell was a mixture of her lotion, dish soap and lavender from her shampoo. How she had to brush and braid her hair every night to control its tendency to frizz in the morning."

She paused, and he just squeezed her tighter, trying to relay his comfort in his touch. She continued her whispered comments a few seconds later.

"How it felt for her to hold my hand in her hand. What her lips felt like when she kissed me on the cheek. What her eyes looked like when she laughed at something silly that I said."

Rick swallowed with difficulty, a huge lump in his throat as she listed her fears. He hoped he could find the right words to offer her some meager solace.

"With time, there may be some things you forget to think about. But all it takes is a whiff of a smell, and you'll think of her. Or you'll hear someone laugh, and it will sound like her. There will be a thousand little things that make you think of her. There's no danger you'll ever forget her, Kate. She'll always be waiting, in the sound of a child playing or the smell of a flower as you pass by. She's still with you here," he said, touching her head gently, "and here," as he moved his hand down to her chest.

"How can I hear a child playing or someone laughing? We're stuck on this island, remember?"

"You don't think we'll always be here, do you? Someone will find us. But until then, let me be the one to remind you. I can hold your hand when you need it held; hug you when you need a hug. I'll help you remember."

She didn't say anything; didn't need to as he watched tears gather in her eyes once more. She simply scooted into his arms again and let him hold her while she cried for what she had lost…and for what she had found.

* * *

**Love to hear your thoughts. **


	27. Chapter 27: Jim's New Life

**This chapter is dedicated to Sanctuaria. Frequent voice of support through PMs and reviews of this story. Love the kind words, as Sanctuaria is also an accomplished author, with multiple published works on FFnet. Thanks so much for all the encouragement!**

* * *

April, 2010

Jim snapped the laptop shut, breathing heavily and fighting tears. He couldn't keep reading, not after experiencing Katie's struggle with her mother's death as if he were with her. Richard's words were so powerful, and the matter so disturbing, that he was on the cusp of losing any of the little control he'd had since learning his beloved daughter was alive.

"Jim? What is it?"

His wife's voice settled him somewhat, forced him to focus on matters unrelated to a desert island in the South Pacific. He looked up at her, wiped his eyes and gave her a watery smile.

"Is there news about Katie?" Celeste asked. She was a petite woman, thin with blond hair that was her natural color, augmented now with the help of regular coloring appointments. She was a few years younger than him, and in appearance quite unlike Johanna.

"What is it?" she repeated, walking over to sit down beside him on the couch. He clutched her hand to his, then leaned over and gave her a kiss. It served to give him the strength to compose himself and talk to his wife.

"I was trying to catch up on Richard's story."

"Oh, they uploaded more chapters?"

"Yes, a day or so ago. I hadn't had a chance to read them until this afternoon."

"Did something happen to Katie? What's upset you so much?"

"He's writing about January."

She nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"January, 2000."

"Oh," she whispered, then reached over to wrap both arms around his neck, leaning her torso on his chest and resting her head on his shoulder. "He's writing about Katie?"

"Yes."

"I take it she struggled quite a bit with her mother's death, just like you?"

He nodded, then started sobbing. He held her tight to him and cried into her hair. His daughter had been through so much. And he? He had given up on her. He'd lost her well before she was lost to the rest of the world.

Celeste shifted, once his sobs had slowed, and moved so that he was now resting on her. She was running her fingers through his short, grey hair with one hand and rubbing comforting patterns on his back with the other. When she thought he was able to listen once more, she spoke again. "Do you want to talk about it some more?"

He did, and he didn't. Celeste knew all about his past; the loss of his wife and daughter. His alcoholism. Suicidal ideations that came after finding out from a reporter on his porch that Katie was dead, drowned in a vast ocean far from home. He'd told it all to her, once she'd managed to penetrate the haze of grief that he held tight to his body. It had been his shield, preventing every other living person from piercing it and making him _feel_ once more.

He'd never wanted to experience an emotion more forceful than apathy ever again, after their deaths. He would have gladly traded in whatever magic beans were needed to become a wooden automaton, content to live his life without any vexatious emotions, like happiness. Happiness was just a step from grief.

Being a terrific manager actually required that one separate oneself from one's emotions. It helped tremendously with negotiations if one didn't have any sentimental investment in the project. Thus, his new professional career once he was sober—negotiating for Martha Rodgers' suddenly prominent services—was benefited by his lack of feeling.

Unbeknownst to him, he'd caught the eye of Martha's new personal assistant, Celeste Hanlin. She'd been concerned initially, that Martha would trust a man who seemed as dead on the inside as he was on the outside. A man who had only been sober for a few months when Martha first offered to have him represent her for a part in a Broadway production that she had been offered. It was her first major role after the loss of her son and her nasty divorce from her second husband.

But Jim had been marvelous in the contract discussions; his knowledge of the law certainly a huge plus in his new career. And Celeste had been drawn to him. She knew, having spent so much time with Martha, that his daughter, Katie, had been lost in the same shipwreck as Martha's son, Richard. She soon learned from Martha herself that this wasn't the extent of his tragedies, that his wife had been murdered nearly a year before his daughter was lost at sea. It was no wonder that the man had locked himself away, emotionally.

She felt badly for him, but was also drawn to him; they both shared some similarities. Her first husband had also perished, in a car wreck six years earlier. It had left Celeste with severe injuries, and she'd also had to battle back from the physical scars to re-enter the bright world once more. Yet, there the commonalities ceased. Her first husband had been abusive, both emotionally and physically. She'd remained with him, cowed by his constant haranguing of her numerous faults and out of concern as to what would happen to their two boys if she left him.

Their youngest had just graduated from high school when she decided it was time to finally break free of her husband. Living alone with him was not an option; he'd learned to restrain himself a good deal once the boys were old enough to object to his overt abuse of their mother. She'd just argued with him right before the car wreck; told him she was leaving. He'd become quite angry, and a large part of her was convinced that he wrecked the car purposefully after it was clear she wasn't staying with him. They'd been arguing, and he was driving very erratically as they approached the bridge abutment.

After recovering physically, she'd been at a loss as to what to do with herself. She'd never held a job: her dead husband had earned a good living. She'd married him quite young—the first man to really pay her any attention, and she'd been pregnant before she realized what _kind_ of man she'd married. From there it was twenty years of being bludgeoned by his fists and his opinion of her before she found herself with a clean slate and a fresh start.

Always a well-organized person, she lucked into a job with a relatively rich older woman, who came to value her executive abilities very highly. When the woman decided to move to California, in order to be closer to her grandchildren, she gave Celeste a glowing reference, which had eventually landed her the job as the personal assistant to an up and coming actress, Martha Rodgers.

She'd loved working for Martha. The woman was in the middle of a divorce, had just lost her son, her only child. She was lost, and all of Celeste's motherly instincts had an immediate outlet, never mind that she was a few years younger than Martha. She'd been a rock for her new boss, who in turn had taken Jim Beckett under her wing.

And once she'd learned that he truly was an honorable man with a tragic past that would bury nearly everyone else, Celeste had become friends with him as well. From there, it had been a matter of learning to trust one another. She had been extremely cautious of men in general, and that fear had become evident even to one as emotionally reserved as Jim Beckett.

It was his observation that she was afraid of men that cracked his emotional aloofness. Curious about the feelings of someone for the first time since he'd been told Katie was gone. They were forced to work together, sharing the same boss and all. Slowly, glacially at times, they opened up to each other. And they'd found love. She for the first time, in a romantic partner. He for the second time.

He'd never thought it possible to love another. Had been afraid that to make the attempt meant a betrayal of Johanna's memory. Celeste had helped him learn that she would never take the place of Johanna in his heart; he'd just grown a bigger heart to accommodate Celeste, and her boys, inside with Johanna and Katie. Apparently, there was no limit to how many people you could love, if you just opened yourself to the idea.

Now, his heart was bigger than it had ever been. Both of Celeste's sons, Nicholas and Michael, had married lovely girls and started their own families. Nicholas and Karla had Kelly and Noah, aged 3 years and 12 months. Michael and Brandy had just had little Emily about 6 months ago. Both boys lived in the greater New York area, and had welcomed Jim into the fold after seeing how happy he made their mother. He'd come to regard them as his own, and vice versa. Kelly called him "Gwampa" and Nicholas and Karla had even taught her to recognize a picture of her 'Aunt' Katie. It had made Jim's heart swell, both in pain and in love.

They hadn't told the boys yet about Richard's declarations regarding Katie's status. For multiple reasons. One, it had to be kept secret; both Celeste and Jim understood, to some degree, that Afaitu had been terrified of anyone in Tahiti finding out. Once they learned what Grollet had to lose, they'd agreed secrecy was critical. Neither of the boys would do anything to hurt the stepsister they'd never met, but it was simply too easy for something to be said in innocence yet leading to disaster.

Secondly, they didn't even know where Katie was right now. Richard hadn't seen her for five months, now. Jim didn't want to speculate on anything bad happening to his daughter, not while she was on the cusp of being returned to him. Yet, he had to be realistic. Any number of things might have happened to her while Richard was drifting alone at sea. She had no one to help her, no one to look after her.

"Jim?" Celeste's voice brought him back to the present. "What does Richard say about Katie that upset you so much?"

"She was so sad; hurting so much. I let her down, Celeste. So badly."

"You were hurting, too."

"But I should have been there for her. I was her father, for God's sake."

"You can't blame yourself for that, not now. It's all in the past."

"I was at fault. I left her all alone; worse I made her try and take care of me, too. What kind of man does that to their nineteen year old daughter?"

"You'd lost your rock; your touchstone. You didn't know what to do, and you took an easy way out of the pain. But you came back from it. This is all ancient history, Jim."

"It was too late for her, though. She has no idea what kind of man I am now, how sorry I am for all that she went through without me."

"Well, you'll just have to show her, tell her, when she comes back to us," Celeste soothed.

"What if she doesn't want to see me? Doesn't want anything to do with me? She left here, hating me."

"I think, after ten years, she'll know that a lot could have changed. Has changed. To you and to her. I don't know her, only what you've told me of her. But I highly doubt that she'll reject you out of hand. Just give her a chance. You'll both have to be patient with each other. In many ways, you'll be total strangers meeting."

Jim sighed. It was so daunting, but so thrilling to think about. He'd never dreamed that this moment would come, so close now that he could almost taste it. His daughter, his Katie.

"Now, let me read what you've read up to, then we'll read the rest together. Ok?" she asked, planting a kiss on his cheek.

He looked at her, giving thanks he'd found a way to let her in those years ago. "I love you, Celeste."

"And I love you too, Jim. Now, let me do some reading."

He stood, going into the kitchen to fix them both some lemonade while she read. Checking his phone, he saw he'd had a text from Nicholas, asking if he and Celeste would be willing to babysit the kids overnight that Friday: he was planning a surprise for Karla. Jim grinned, excited by the prospect of having the two grandkids running wild around the house, and texted back an emphatic 'yes' to his stepson. It would be so good, for both of them, to be able to forget all the emotional drama the last week had delivered for a little while.

Returning to the living room, he found his wife was ready to read the next part with him. She had some tears of her own trickling down from her eyes, so he knew that Richard's words had affected her nearly as much as they had affected him. He lightened the mood a bit, telling her they got to play host to Kelly and Noah on Friday, then together they turned their attention back to the laptop and the story of Richard and Katie, all those years ago.

* * *

January, 2000

"Do you have everything?" he asked, anxious to be going. "We're going to get a late start if you keep lollygagging about."

"I think so. And I'm not lollygagging. I'm packing, but I just finished. What about you?"

"I was born ready," he declared, puffing out his chest.

She rolled her eyes, letting out a huff. "Really? Sure about that, Born Ready?"

He mentally ran through everything he wanted to bring, confident he had it all piled down by the canoe, ready to go. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"So, you mean to say that you're going to wear the same clothes all three or four days that we'll be gone?"

Huh? Oh. Shit. "Uh, no. No, I'm not."

"So why is it that all your clothes are still piled in the tent? Where I piled them, I might add, so I know you haven't touched them. Hmm?"

"I wasn't going to take those clothes," he blustered. He wasn't going to get out of this one, but it was worth the try.

"If you're not taking those clothes, which by the way are your only clothes besides what you're wearing, then what is it you're going to wear, exactly?"

"That's just the point, Kate. I'm returning to the natural state. No clothes, just me, hanging free and wild like I was meant to be."

"Oh, no you're not," she exclaimed. "Not a chance. Just because you took liberties with my clothes doesn't mean I'm ok with you prancing around naked."

He knew she was referring to the moment she finally figured out she was naked under the sheet on January 9th. It hadn't been a particularly pretty moment, though not as bad as it might have been. She'd been too upset about the date and all it's meaning to really lay into him. However, she did keep bringing it up as ammo in their frequent…arguments. Or bantering. Or needling. He couldn't name exactly what they did. He just knew he enjoyed the snap of her wit against his.

"Why not?"

"Well, for one thing, I am NOT going to nurse any cuts or bruises you'd get to your 'wild side'. Cuts that are inevitable on the coral in the lagoon, I might add. And for another, I don't have any sunglasses, so there."

He wouldn't mind her nursing any part of his 'wild side', but the sunglasses comment made no sense. "What does not having sunglasses have to do with anything?"

"It's a small beach Rick."

"Yeeeaaahhh?"

"It's a small, very sunny beach."

"I'm still not buying what you're selling."

"I won't have any place to escape the glare from your skinny white ass if you're walking around naked. I'll be blinded."

"Har, har, very funny Kate. Fine," he puffed, as dramatic as his mother when he wanted to be, "I'll bring some clothes. Wouldn't want to offend your _sensibilities_."

* * *

They were in the canoe, paddling for the ocean within a half hour. It was January 14th, and they were headed out to the beach outside the island to make salt, catch fish, and do anything else that came to mind.

Rick felt they were pretty prepared for the expedition. They were taking some bamboo, which was trailing behind them in the water, to construct a better shelter. They had the tarps they needed, the cooking pots and pans with their lids, more bamboo to use as a drying rack for the fish, their knives, and some sheets to use as filters for the seawater. They had their bucket and some gourds and baskets that Kate had waterproofed. And clothes. For some reason.

The days after January ninth had wrought a marked change in Kate. She was much happier, much more demonstrative with him. Not flirty or vulgar, just more open with him. Friendly. After that awful morning, when she'd been missing, she hadn't really left his side for any length of time. Not that he was complaining.

They'd spent the last several days in the agonizing labor of clearing a straight path from the lake shore to the giant bamboo grove. Rick had never been so thankful for something as simple as the sharpening stone he'd found with the tools in the boat. He'd had to sharpen their machetes daily while they hacked their way through the jungle. The work wasn't done yet, but they'd made progress.

Ready for a break from the hard labor, they'd welcomed the sight of the waxing moon, waiting for a neap tide so they'd be as safe as possible from the high tide mark. It was time to take their salt making, fish catching trip for a few days. There wasn't much to do to prepare Pereora for their absence. The chickens didn't need them, and they'd decided to let the hens brood the eggs they'd miss while gone, to start to replace the few they'd eaten.

They were at the beach within thirty minutes from leaving. Once again there was absolutely no sign of any ships. It really did feel like they were the last two people on earth, sometimes. Beaching the canoe, Rick helped Kate unload everything and carry the camping items up past the high tide mark. His first task was to construct the shelter. They'd brought some homemade rope, now having quite a stock going.

Kate hadn't ever directly seen him building with the bamboo, so he took the time to show her how to fit the pieces together with his x-gouge system and rope. First, he took his large knife, the piece of bamboo he was working with, and a 'baton' made of a piece of hard candlenut wood. He placed the bamboo on a handy rock, and positioned his knife on one end angled across the bamboo, sharp end down of course. He then struck the top of the knife with the baton with one hard blow, so that the knife was buried into the bamboo with a nice deep cut. He then removed the knife and repositioned the blade so it formed an 'X' over the previous cut, and repeated the process. This left a large 'X' cut into the end of the bamboo.

The next step was to add a shorter cut across two opposite ends of the 'X' making it appear like an hourglass. He then chiseled out the wood between the two newly formed triangles; since it was bamboo, he was left with two triangular shaped holes, with the apices touching each other. He repeated this process for all the pieces that would be fitted perpendicularly to each other, then buried the vertical poles as deeply as possible in the sand. Taking up the pieces intended to cross with them, he simply fitted the two 'X's together; they then stuck to each other a bit like a Lincoln log or a Lego. The last step was to bind them tightly together with the rope. In the end, it was a quite sturdy structure.

This method had been how he'd built all of their permanent buildings so far. However, he knew this shelter wouldn't last long, exposed to the higher wind gusts directly from the ocean, as well as the tidal forces. They planned to dismantle it when they left, and place the bamboo pieces as high up the beach as possible, next to the cliff walls. Hopefully, they could simply rebuild it whenever they came back and spent the night outside of the island interior.

The frame went up very quickly with Kate's help, and they finished it off by tying the tarps to the roof, careful to leave the walls open in the strong sun.

"Well, now when it rains, we'll be snug as bugs," Rick proclaimed with a satisfied air.

"It will definitely beat the last time we were here," Kate said, smiling at him.

"Ok, shall we get the fire going and start in on the salt making?"

"Sure. Do we need to do anything to the fire pit that we made last time we stayed?"

Rick looked it over. "No, I think we're good. We'll need to boil the water in our largest pot, so we'll just use that flat rock there," he said pointing to a large, flat rock they'd used as a griddle last visit, "and put the pot on it to simmer."

"Sounds like we'll need a lot of wood."

"Uh, yeah. Luckily there's a bunch of driftwood; enough I think to suffice for the whole time. I'm glad I won't have to chop down any trees. I'm heartily sick of my axe."

"Aww, poor Ricky. Not a burly lumberjack?"

"Well, when you put it that way…" He stopped and flexed for her. Instead of laughing, like he'd expected, she suddenly turned red and spun around to start gathering the wood.

"Kate? What'd I do?"

"No-nothing. I just thought we needed to get started on the fire."

"Well, sure. Ok."

They didn't talk much after that, busy gathering supplies. Rick took the bucket down to the shore once he had the fire going. Bringing it back full of water, he took one of their sheets and dipped it down into the bucket so that only clear water came through it. He started dipping off the filtered water from the bucket with a clean bottle, emptying it in the big pot, which Kate put on the fire. They soon had the pot full, and covered it with its lid so no contaminants landed in it while it boiled.

"This will take some time, but I'd stir it around periodically. You want it to get to the consistency of sand, then we'll take it off the fire and dip out the wet salt and spread it out in the sun on the clean sheets we brought," he explained.

Kate nodded. "Okay, that makes sense. What should we do next?"

"While we're boiling the water?"

She nodded again.

"Well, I was going to throw up the little bamboo screen we'll use to dry fish on. You want to help?"

"Sure, I want to see how this all goes together."

It took little time, as this was a much lighter structure and didn't need the engineering that a shelter did. They just tied the pieces together. It looked like a bit like a portion of a fence, with two outside vertical poles, joined by multiple horizontal poles running between them.

"Now that this is done, I'm going to go try my luck fishing. You okay with the salt?" he asked, excited to try out the net he'd tied together over the last week after dinner.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'll do some shell and crab hunting while you're out there reeling in the catch of the day."

"Alright. Just yell or wave something to get my attention if you need anything."

"I'll be fine, Rick. Now go on, catch us some fish." She gave him a little shove and he pretended to fall backwards. She laughed at him, and he jogged off to the canoe.

Once out in the lagoon, he started setting out his net. It was made so smaller fish would swim out of it, but it would hold larger ones. He waded out until he was up to his chest in the water. The shore here sloped pretty gently, so he was able to go out further than he'd expected. He'd tied bamboo pieces along the top edges of the net, to act as floats, and rocks along the bottom. Once the net was completely spread out, he started slowly walking backwards to shore pulling the net gently towards him with two long ropes attached to the two ends.

It was essentially a seine net, and he'd only had enough time to make it five feet high by twelve to fifteen feet long. He wasn't sure how big a net he could handle alone, nor how many fish he'd capture this way. He started getting concerned when he was halfway back and there was no real pull to the lines. His disappointment was complete when he pulled the net in all the way once his knees were the only part of him submerged. Nothing. Not one stinking fish.

Never one to give up once he had an idea, he repeated the process. Unfortunately with the same result. He couldn't understand it; he could see fish swimming everywhere in the lagoon. Many were too big to be able to swim through the net. Though….maybe he was going too slowly, too deliberately. Maybe the fish were smarter than he was, and were simply swimming under the net, since it didn't touch bottom.

Energized by the thought, the next trip out found him setting the net then running backwards. Not the best idea if one wanted to look suave and cool for a certain female, which he most assuredly did. However, even more critical for her good opinion was to bring back a bountiful catch. And this time it worked! When he managed to haul the net in to shore, he found it contained a good dozen large fish.

Clubbing them to prevent them from suffering, he repeated the process three more times and then placed them in the net to carry up to the campsite. About an hour had passed, and he saw Kate was standing with her back to him, stirring the salt pot.

"Hey, look what I've got," he said, net full of fish hanging over one shoulder like a very odd Santa with a bulging bag of…fish.

Kate turned, took one look at him and spun away again. It was all very puzzling.

* * *

Kate had spent part of her time hunting shells, and part walking back and forth from the shore to check on the salt. She kept an eye on Rick initially, worried he was walking out so deeply into the ocean. He'd been so excited about the net he'd tied together over the last week.

Sadly, his excitement didn't seem to be translating into success. Shaking her head, she refused to watch him any longer. Because he was goofy, not because she was finding it hard to ignore the sight of his well-muscled chest, bare now that he was out fishing. No, that was not the reason. Good lord, how great his biceps had looked when he'd flexed for her earlier, messing around. Her visceral reaction had embarrassed her, so she'd turned away. The man was vexing…wasn't he?

An hour or so later she was back at the fire, stirring the pot. Due to the sound of the waves, she didn't hear him approaching her, or else she would have been prepared for him walking back. Alas, the first she knew he was behind her was when he was already there; she could feel his presence even before he opened his mouth and said something to her.

"Hey, look what I've got," he exclaimed.

She turned to look and felt heat flood her abdomen. He was standing in front of her, still shirtless, with the bulging net thrown over one shoulder. His skin was still wet, droplets of water slowly tracing their way over his taut muscles. Slowly dribbling lazy paths lower and lower from chiseled pecs to his washboard abs, until finally disappearing into the unseen depths of his shorts.

She spun back around, heart racing and breathing already erratic. This was impossible. At least inside the island, there was room to escape from him when she needed to be alone. How the hell was she going to survive three days with him like this?

* * *

**Pictures of the X gouge system and the firebow (bowdrill) are on tumblr, but they come from the Hedgehog Leatherworks site. **

**Thank you all so much for any reviews/PMs that you send my way. Love hearing from you! For the guest review that said you needed to go call your mom after reading the last chapter: thank you! That made my day.  
**


	28. Chapter 28: I've Got a Fever for You

**This chapter is dedicated to fembot79. I thank twitter every day that I joined and became twitter pals with her; she is absolutely hilarious. And an awesome person. Absolutely guaranteed to make a Castle episode even more interesting with her unique perspective and rapier wit. I love her perspectives on events, and hope she continues to share her viewpoint for many more years with all of us.**

* * *

January, 2000

"Kate? What's wrong?" This was the second time she'd acted like the very sight of him was revolting. He had no idea what he was doing, but he wanted to know so he could stop it. Whatever _it_ was.

She pivoted slowly back to face him, fake smile now plastered on her face. He could tell the difference.

"Nothing, Rick. I'm fine. Just caught me off guard with that haul of fish, that's all."

"Oh, yeah," he happily crowed. "I had a little trouble at first, but I got the hang of it pretty quickly. Just look at these beauties!" He swung the net around, while Kate studiously avoided watching his muscles flex and stretch with the movement. She didn't see a thing. Not his biceps bulging, or the impressive deltoids shrugging off the burden. Nothing. Of. The. Kind. Seen. At. All.

"That is impressive," she said, distracted. Since she wasn't looking at the fish, it simply confused Rick even more.

"Are you sure you're okay? Did you get stung by any jellyfish or step on an anemone when you were walking along the shore?" he worried, looking over her legs for any tell-tale red marks.

"No, no nothing like that. Sorry, I just have a bit of a headache," she lied. Well, she was dizzy, though not because she was ill. '_Get a hold of yourself, Kate!_' she told herself sternly.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I don't think we brought anything for headaches, did we?"

"It's ok, Rick. Really, I'll be fine. It's not too bad."

"Well, maybe you should rest in the shade for a while. I can watch the salt."

"No, it's really fine. I'm good. Should we start cleaning the fish?"

He looked at her speculatively. Seeing nothing to truly concern him, he nodded. They both had filleting knives that Rick kept in meticulous shape. Dividing up the catch, they cleaned, washed and filleted the prized haul, cutting them in half but leaving the tail intact so they could be hung over the poles of the drying rack. There was a small fire burning nearby, made quite smoky by the addition of various greenery, keeping flies and birds away.

Rick collected all the offal in a basket and disposed of it at one end of the beach, leaving it for the numerous waterfowl that roosted in the island cliffs' cracks and crevices. Kate turned her attention back to the boiling pot of water, determined not to watch him walking back and forth. No matter how much the idea attracted her.

"How's the salt making going?" he asked after returning to the campsite, watching as Kate peered in the pot once more, giving the interior a few desultory stirs.

"I think it's about ready for the sun. What do you think?"

He took the spoon from her and stirred. "Yeah, this is about right. Let's go spread it out."

He carried to pot to a sheet they'd laid on top of a flat rock. Kate emptied the pot onto the sheet, trying to keep everything evenly distributed in the hot sunshine. The remaining water would evaporate in the heat, leaving behind the desired salt crystals.

"You okay taking over from here?" Rick asked from behind her, making her startle once again. "I refilled the bucket with fresh seawater, so you're already to go for the next round," he said, slowly, watching her with evident unease.

"Look, Kate, I can see something's wrong. You're not acting yourself. Why don't you go rest, and I'll take over the salt making for a while. We've got enough fish for this first trip."

Kate closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She knew she wasn't ill, but she was feeling a bit desperate to get away from him and just _think_. She couldn't understand her reactions, and wouldn't be able to sort it out if he kept sneaking up on her and staggering her with his physical _presence_.

"Actually, Rick, I don't think I'd mind lying down for a bit. Do we have any extra water?"

"Of course."

He unexpectedly reached an arm out, touching her forehead. She felt a shock go through her; this had happened when he'd touched her before, but never as strongly.

"Jeez, Kate. You're burning up. You've got a fever! Maybe you're getting sick."

She felt the flaming heat crawling up her cheeks. It was a fever alright. But she wasn't sick.

"It's probably the sun, coupled with bending over a boiling pot for the last few hours. Once I lay down, I bet I'll be fine." More lies. Though she hoped the last statement was the truth.

"Ok," he said, doubtfully. "Just let me know if you need anything."

"Oh, I will Rick. I will." She colored further, having not intended for that to sound quite the way it did. Hoping he hadn't caught it, she strolled off to the trees near the cliff base, bottle in hand. Some cooler temperatures would be welcome, both internally and externally.

* * *

Choosing a comfortable looking stretch of shaded sand, Kate sat down, leaning her back against the palm trunk behind her. Alone at last, it was time to try and sort out her reactions to the man. Time to stop lying to herself that she was inured to his presence. She wasn't. Today had proved that in spades.

So, what was it about him that so disrupted her usual equilibrium? She was certainly attracted to him. Who wouldn't be? She'd thought he was good looking from the first time she'd laid eyes on him. Now that they'd been stranded together, and been required to work their fingers to the bone just to survive, his already well defined body had morphed into something a Renaissance sculptor might have copied to represent a Greek god.

But, she'd seen plenty of good looking men. Maybe none quite as attractive as Rick, with his perfectly cut shoulders that led to those delicious biceps. His incredible pecs that inevitably led the eyes down to those unbelievable abs. His legs were….

"Stop it!" she admonished out loud, tensing her body and sitting forward. She was truly losing it, talking out loud to herself.

"Ok, Kate. You have to stop thinking about his body, and figure out why you're reacting this way _now_, of all times. I mean, we've been thrown together for almost two months now, and you didn't have this…_proclivity_…back then." None of the coconuts answered her verbal agitation, so she returned to her silent inquest.

She thought about the past two months, and all the things that they'd been through. In the beginning, she had been at times annoyed by Rick, and at times frustrated with him. But, she'd always had a reaction to him. She'd never been immune. That was certain.

He'd more than proven himself to her after the ship had wrecked and he'd managed to rescue both of them from the sinking ship. The rescue alone was impressive; however their time together since then had elevated him in her eyes beyond measure. His knowledge of the flora of the island and his ability to subsist, if not thrive, in such a harsh environment was, simply put, incredible.

Kate felt that she'd contributed very little to their survival up to this point. Sure, her knowledge of how to dress a chicken had been valuable while attempting to preserve the carcasses of the dead birds on the ship. However, she recognized that Rick undoubtedly would've been able to accomplish the same thing, given time and effort.

Everything else that she had done on the island had been taught to her by Rick. She was now better at making rope, and far better at making baskets. Nonetheless, she knew that if he were alone, he would be nearly as comfortable as he was with her now. Though far lonelier. The man did like to talk. If she had been alone, however, she had no doubt that she would've been dead well before now.

Yet, it wasn't hero worship that had so sharpened her senses to his very being. If that had been the extent of it, she would have had these feelings from the time he'd rescued her. She'd been thankful, no doubt. And glad he knew what he was doing; could build a raft, rough as it had been. Could navigate to a desert island and bend it to his will. No, it was much more than admiration for his accomplishments.

So, she appreciated his physical appearance, but had done so from their first meeting. A time when she'd thought him mentally light in the ballast department. Even when that incorrect assumption was rectified, he'd still needled her. Then, he'd rescued her, saved her from an agonizing death locked in her cabin for who knew how many days before the boat actually sank? Yet he was so much more to her than a simple knight in shining armor.

Lying back against the trunk of the palm, she tried to relax again. Twisting her brain around her confusing feelings was starting to give her a real headache. She closed her eyes and tried to stop thinking about him for a while. As she lay there, a sudden memory of being wrapped in his arms came bubbling up. Gasping, her eyes flew open as she remembered all the sensations that being in his embrace had engendered.

Kindness. Empathy. Caring. Safety. Protection. At one of her most vulnerable times, he had held her tight and kept the demons away, for just a little while. These actions were what truly had made her reevaluate her perception of him.

She'd been nearly overwhelmed with the grief of her mother's death as the anniversary had approached. Every time she'd been ready to retreat into herself, shut out the world completely, he'd been there offering a shoulder to cry on and a hand hold. No one else in her life, even Lanie, had ever been able to reach her in that manner. Her father _should_ have helped her, or at least _tried_, but he sought comfort of a different kind. Kate had ultimately donned a mask to hide behind, and no one had really seen through it until Rick had come along.

She thought then about how he had held her close as she grieved for her mother. He'd been a life preserver after she'd been tossed into a stormy sea. She'd told him earlier that he made her feel safe. Warm. Secure. He was still _all_ of those feelings, but now she realized she was seeing him more as a man than as just a mere friend. A man that she wanted to know much better.

There was no doubt that she could easily fall in love with Rick. She thought he _could_ feel the same about her. He liked to tease her quite frequently, but underlying that there was always a tension roiling off of him; an awareness of her, as a woman. And now she finally realized the disquiet she was feeling around him stemmed from his presence as a man.

However she was at a severe disadvantage, compared to him. He knew most of her story; at least the most important pieces. The part about her mother. The part about her father. She still didn't even know what on earth he was doing in the South Pacific. He'd told her that he would give her his story once they got past January ninth. Well, that cruel date had come and gone. Perhaps it was time to take the opportunity to get to know each other, to learn about the other: thoughts, dreams, as well as their past. After all, they were stuck on a small beach with few jobs to do and a lot of time to spend with each other.

* * *

Rick had spent the time while Kate was resting thinking about why she was acting so weird around him. He hadn't come up with a good explanation by the time she came back, but he was hoping she would feel open enough to talk to him about it.

Fortunately her mood seemed much improved, compared to earlier in the day. She returned just as he was placing the second batch of salt out onto a sheet.

"Hey, how's it going?" she asked, as she strolled up to him.

"I'm fine, but how are you feeling? Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, thank you very much. I really appreciate you letting me rest for a while."

"It's no problem, Kate. I'm just glad you're feeling better."

"Do we have time to make another batch of salt?"

"I think we can start, however we may have to finish it tomorrow."

"Okay, what else do we need to work on today?" she asked him as he finished ladling out the salt.

"There's nothing in particular, but I was thinking about taking a swim in the ocean. Do you want to join me?"

"Well, I _suppose_ I could. Though I was wondering if we would have some time to talk today?"

"Talk? Talk about what?"

"Do you remember that you told me that you would tell me about your past, after we had gotten past January ninth? I think I'm ready to talk about it, if—if that's all right with you?"

Rick stopped still, startled by the request. He'd known that this day was coming, but he hadn't expected it to come so quickly after the anniversary of Johanna's death. He knew he had to tell her about his past, but he was terrified that she would find out that he was not the man she thought she knew. Sighing, he turned toward her and looked deeply into her eyes.

"I know I said that to you, and I'll keep my word. You told me about your past, and it's only fair that you know about mine. However, there are a lot of things that I'm not proud of, and I hope that you won't think differently about me, once you've heard about them."

"Rick, you saved my life. You've been the rock that kept me from crumbling into the dust, held me up when all I wanted to do was lie down and cry. I highly doubt that there is _anything_ you can tell me that would change my mind about what kind of man you are. I told you once that our past was meaningful in that it only serves to remind us of what we _were_, not who we are now. You don't have to tell me everything, but I want to know where you came from and what brought you here today. Not to judge you, but to understand you better. Does that make sense?"

He closed his eyes, then opened them and reached for her. Drawing her into a tight hug, he whispered into her hair, "I'm scared, but I know you won't judge me for things I did when I was a different man."

"So, it's okay that we spend some time talking about our lives before?"

"Yes, we can. But first, do you think it would be okay to take a swim? I was really looking forward to playing in the waves for a while."

She laughed, music to his ears after so many tears over the last few weeks.

"Yes, Rick. You can go play in the surf. Do you want to build a sand castle too?"

"Only if you promise not to knock it down."

* * *

That evening, he managed to keep her distracted through dinner. He had worked up an appetite, out in the sea air, and wanted to enjoy the meal they put together. Most of it was bounty from the sea, a big change from their now mundane fare inside the island.

They sat near each other in the sand around the fireplace. Not so close that he was touching her, but close enough that he could if he so desired. They'd built the fire up after cooking dinner, knowing they'd be up for a while talking and wanting to have enough light to see well while they sat and twisted fibers into sennit.

And they would talk. The moment had arrived, and he wasn't sure he was up to it. He would have happily gone back into the fury of a cyclone, or even faced off with the oily Grollet instead of having to confess his sins to her. It would be a process that stripped his soul bare. He knew she deserved no less, and if he had any shot of a long term relationship with her, he had to be honest. No dissembling. No avoiding. It was time to man up.

She sat, quietly twisting away, content to let him initiate the conversation. He knew she wanted to have this discussion. So, she'd let him decide when it was time to do so. She never doubted that he would go back on his word. He simply was not that type of man.

"So, Kate, where should I start? What do you want to know?"

"I can ask anything?"

"Yes. For you, yes. I want you to know that I think very highly of you. What you've been through, in such a short time? I'm not sure many people would come through it. But you have; it's tempered you, made you stronger. And you let me in, let me see the real you when you didn't have to let anyone inside. I want to give you the same thing, though I don't have any traumas in my life like those that you've had to deal with."

"It's not a contest, Rick," she retorted, a bit annoyed by the deprecation of his own life in order to pay due to hers.

"No, I know it's not. That didn't come out right. I just meant that there are things that have affected me, some deeply, and I'm not proud of how I've responded to them. It wasn't until I came out to the South Pacific and met Anapa that I realized what type of man I _wanted_ to be. He's the one that shaped me, not through a forge of fire, like you experienced, but through gentle molding and sanding off the rough spots."

She looked up at him, almost shy in appearance. "Sorry. I'm too defensive about some of these issues. I didn't mean to accuse y…"

"No, Kate. It's fine, please," he interrupted. "I didn't explain it the way I should have. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to try and draw an analogy between us. I'll tell you what, why don't I just start by telling you about my childhood and how I got here, then if you have any questions you can fire away?"

She drew in a breath, hardly believing how open he was being with her. It was invigorating. Encouraging. And utterly terrifying. If he was willing to strip his defenses completely away for her, she would be left with no doubt as to how he felt about her.

Taking her silence for acquiescence, Rick started at what he thought was the logical place to begin. His entrance into the big, wide world.

"My mother's name is Martha Rodgers. I don't know my father's name. She told me she fell in love with him through the course of a magical night, but by daylight he'd melted away like the mist in the night. Six weeks later, she realized he'd left more than just memories behind; she was pregnant, with no idea of his name or where she could find him." He paused, seeing Kate's look of sympathy for a woman she didn't know.

"That couldn't have been easy for her."

"I daresay it wasn't. She'd come to the big city chasing a dream of acting, like so many before her. Finding herself alone and pregnant did not fit in with her career plans. But my mother is incredibly tenacious, and she decided to continue in her chosen career, and have me as well."

"Was she successful?"

"To a degree. It's hard to break into acting even without the burden of a baby and no one to help. But she persisted, and while we had a lot of years where there was simply no money for anything besides the essentials, we survived. I didn't know any different, at that age. I thought all kids grew up haunting the backstage of theaters and being chased off by annoyed property masters when items went 'missing.' I didn't get to play with many children, but I was free to develop my imagination. I was later exiled to the public library as a punishment, but I soon learned to love reading. It took me to places far beyond the world I'd seen so far. I had a very liberal childhood, in the sense that I had next to no supervision. But constraining as well, since I had no idea how to act around kids my own age."

"I can just picture a little Ricky Rodgers, dusty from exploring some backstage nooks and crannies and getting underfoot all the time."

"Oh, yes, I was great at getting into things I shouldn't. I think that's why mother finally enrolled me in a boarding school. She was finally getting bigger parts, and couldn't supervise me; I was now old enough to get into real trouble. She'd tried a series of nannies, but all they ever did was sit around watching soaps. I ran wild in the meantime."

"Boarding school, as in you lived there?"

"Yes. Well, until I got kicked out. I was pretty smart, so was able to get scholarships. We were doing better, but not that well. But I hated boarding schools with a passion. I was always the perpetual new kid, a loner. It was hard to fit in, harder to feel like I was somewhere I belonged. I eventually took a page out of mother's life and started playing a part. The big prankster who didn't _care_ if he got into trouble. I went through several schools in short order, and I think my mother was ready to disown me."

"I sense a 'but then' coming."

Rick laughed, pleased at how easily she could read him. "You're right, Kate. But then, I met one of my best friends, Damien Westlake. He took me under his wing, helped me settle down and find my voice."

"Your voice? As in singing?"

Rick chuckled. "Surely you've heard me trying to sing while I was working around the island?"

She nodded; it was a deep voice, but not particularly melodious.

"Well, then you know singing was never a talent I possessed. No, Damien was the editor of the school's literary magazine. I wrote a few pieces for him, and he encouraged me to learn more about the craft of writing. It fit me perfectly, as all that reading and time spent alone as a child was molded into an ability to write stories that others wanted to read. I was fascinated by the whole process, and quickly decided I wanted to be a writer."

"Ah, I seem to remember you having a stash of paper and pens in the bow. And Hina mentioned that you liked to sit up there when off duty and write."

"Yep. That's one reason I brought all that I could with me. I can't imagine not being able to write."

"I haven't seen you ever sitting down to write, not since we've been here."

"Well, no. We've been too busy. But once we get the major projects done, life should be a lot easier. And I'll have time to write. I'd like to keep a record of things that we do here, big and small events. Perhaps when we get back to the real world there will be an interest in knowing our story."

Kate blanched, having not considered that some celebrity, or notoriety, might result from their disappearance. Rick, noticing, reached out and took her hand.

"Hey, listen. I'll not write anything you don't want me to. And, of course, you'll be the first to read anything I write about our time here. If you don't want to be a part of it, that's fine. I promise."

He had no way of knowing that this was one promise to Kate Beckett that he'd have to break.

* * *

**Well, he's started to share his life with her. More coming. Many are asking where they can get a Rick like this one for their personal use. Maybe I should start a crowdfunding account to clone him?**


	29. Chapter 29: The Past is the Past

**This chapter is dedicated to the people I've worked with over the last 2 days. I wish I could adequately convey their empathy and support in the face of devastation, but mere words would not do them justice. I am frequently impressed by the depth of caring that I see routinely from my co-workers to their patients and families, but the last 2 days have proven once again that I work with some incredible people. Thank you. **

* * *

January, 2000

"Kate? You still with me?" He thought she looked a bit piqued. He mentally kicked himself for bringing up a book about their time together on the island. She was a quiet, introverted person. She would not submit gladly to her fifteen minutes of fame.

"Yeah, sorry, Rick. Do you really think there will be an interest in our story?"

"Kate, you have to know there will be," he said gently. "We survived a shipwreck, and even if we're found tonight or tomorrow, it will have been long enough that most people would assume us long dead. Not to mention that we have the whole Grollet thing to deal with. If the men in the lifeboat survived, he should face some sort of punishment."

"You're right, of course. I just hadn't thought it through." She lapsed into silence, furiously thinking about the possible consequences of unwanted public attention. Her mother's murder would be raked over; her alcoholic father undoubtedly found under a rock. It would be agonizing and humiliating.

"Kate. Kate!" She looked up, finding Rick's eyes, as always, on hers, concern shining through.

"Once we're found and the initial hubbub dies down, it won't be bad. Probably just some local interest, here in French Polynesia, then it will be on to the next story. And I'll be with you the whole way. We'll get through it together." He knew as he said it that it was likely a lie. His celebrity would ensure some interest outside of the South Pacific. And he was sure Black Pawn would take advantage of his disappearance to hype the book he'd finished just before leaving on this voyage. No, there would be interest. A lot of interest, though it probably depended on how soon they were found. Perhaps people might forget about them?

For the second time in mere minutes he foreshadowed events that would overtake them many years later. And underestimated the impact so badly that he'd subsequently wonder why he ever even bothered to try and control their destiny and their privacy. They would be known world-wide; celebrated by many. Hated by a few. But there would be no quiet reentry to the world. Not for either of them.

* * *

"Ok, so where were we?" she finally recovered. Had to keep going, because dwelling on what _might_ come was foolhardy. They'd handle it when the time came. Nothing they could do in the meantime; their rescue was dependent on others.

"Let's see. I was telling you about Damien, how I decided I wanted to become a writer."

"Right. Though I have to say it's hard to reconcile the image of you, as I know you, sitting still at a typewriter or computer and bringing a story to life. I've always seen you as a man of action."

"Ah, but Kate," he said, holding up his hands and wriggling his fingers for her, "you haven't seen my magical fingers in action."

Kate involuntarily gasped and dropped her head. She didn't know if he'd be able to see her face flaming in the firelight, but she didn't want to take a chance.

"Uh, that might have come out wrong," he apologized. Though he didn't sound very remorseful. She refused to look up and see if he was sorry or not.

"So, anyway, I found that I liked writing. I decided to major in it in college, got into a pretty decent one and sometimes attended classes between parties and writing my great novel. That's when I met my first love. A woman I thought was my soul mate."

Kate looked up at these words. She'd heard a bite of sorrow in his voice; an old heartbreak. "What was her name?"

"Kyra. Kyra Blaine. She held my hand through rejection letter after rejection letter, helped keep my chin up. I really thought she was the one, you know?"

Kate didn't know. Not really. She'd never had that serious of a relationship with anyone, though she suspected she might soon know. She just shook her head.

"Ah, I forgot how young you are, and..." he caught himself before he finished the sentence, but she'd heard what was coming.

"I've not been involved with anyone since my mother died. I had a casual relationship with a guy in college; maybe it would have gone somewhere, who knows? But after my mom was murdered it pretty much destroyed the whole concept for me, for a while anyway."

Rick nodded. He'd suspected there'd been no one serious in her life, at least for the past year. Otherwise, she'd never have been left to suffer alone like she had.

"Anyway, Kyra helped me through some of the darkest years that I could have imagined at the time. No one wanted anything to do with my book. I was discouraged; would probably have given it up completely, but she helped me brush off the rejections and keep plugging away. I was so crazy over her, I decided it was time to take our relationship to the next level."

"You proposed?" Kate exclaimed, surprised.

"What? No. Not marriage. I wanted to live with her. Her parents didn't like me, but I was hoping they'd come around. But before I could ask her, she landed this incredible job in London. She told me she was taking it, and I was clearly not invited. She said the separation might do us some good; help us know what we wanted in life. After she was gone a year without any signs of coming back, I finally figured out she wanted a life without me. It was devastating."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Rick. That must have been really difficult to deal with."

"It was. I have to warn you, Kate, this is where my life starts to spiral into depths that I am truly ashamed of. Looking back, it's hard to fathom how I let myself fall so far, but I did. It's not something I like to talk about, but I want you to know everything."

Kate nodded. She could picture a crushed and broken Rick. Rejected by the career he'd chosen. Rejected by the woman he loved. She was beginning to see why he'd chosen to leave New York. Nothing criminal, as Henri Grollet had suggested. Just a man who'd failed at the two things he'd wanted most in life. No wonder he'd ended up on a cargo ship.

"Just when I thought I'd never see any color in the world again, I got a letter from a publishing company named Black Pawn. They were interested in my book. We struck a deal, and before I knew it, I was a best seller. A professional dynamo and a personal vacuum. It was a recipe for disaster."

Kate nodded absently, not really paying attention until the meaning of his words sank in. She sat straighter, drawing up her back to confront him. "Wait a minute. Did you just say you wrote a best seller?"

He nodded, taken aback by her surprise. "Is it so hard to believe? It wasn't my only book to be a bestseller. I've written a bunch more, all successes. But the issue wasn't that I had finally found fame and fortune through my books. It was that fame and fortune found _me_, a willing and eager student to sample every excess you can imagine. Drinking, drugs, women. No one told me no. Many nights I'd wake up with no knowledge of the previous night. No idea who was in bed with me. I was a mess, and I was headed to the bottom with a stone tied around my neck."

"What kind of books did you write? I've never seen any best-selling Rick Rodgers books."

"No, and you wouldn't. I didn't use my real name as an author. I had a pen name."

"Well, what is it?"

"Richard Castle."

"Richard…Castle? Really?!"

"Yes. Really."

"The mystery writer?"

"Yes."

"I can't believe it. Richard Castle books were my mother's favorite books to read." She smiled softly, thinking about her mother and how she would lose herself in a good book. "I brought one of your books with me on my trip. It was her favorite."

"Really, which one?"

"A Rose for Everafter. She loved it so much, it was falling apart when I took it from her bedside table after she died. Traveling hasn't helped it, but it's still readable."

"Wow, that's amazing. We've had a connection longer than either of us thought," Rick mused.

"You're really Richard Castle?" It was hard to believe she was sitting on a tiny beach in the middle of nowhere with the man who'd written the one book she'd brought with her.

"I really am. Well, that is to say I was. I still am," he flustered.

"I'm confused. Are you or aren't you?"

"I was." Seeing that this answer hadn't helped her confusion, he held up a hand so he could explain without interruption. "Look, Kate, Richard Castle became this bigger than life persona. A man of excesses in all things. He was drunk, often. Slept around, constantly. And was sad and unhappy all of the time. I grew to hate Richard Castle. No one wanted to know Rick Rodgers. It was like I was a man in a costume, like Goofy at Disney World. And no one wanted to ruin the illusion by letting me take off the very thing that was suffocating me. I wanted to leave Richard Castle in New York, so I did."

"Is that why you're Rick Rodgers here in French Polynesia?"

"Yes. My real name is Richard Rodgers; it's on my passport. So, when I arrived, it was much simpler to go by that. Nobody knew who I was. I could just be Richard Rodgers, the person. No one suspected that I was actually a best-selling author. But, I did eventually tell Anapa and Hina."

"I can't believe you're Richard Castle."

"That's the thing, Kate. I'm not. Not anymore. He was a drunken playboy with almost no virtues. Nothing to offer to the world beyond the pages he wrote. Richard Rodgers, on the other hand, is known as an honorable, dependable man. That's who I am. Not Richard Castle. Not anymore."

Kate didn't know what to say. She'd seen firsthand what alcohol had done to her father, but he'd been drinking to forget his pain. Rick had been celebrating his fame. It should be different, but perhaps the end result was all that mattered.

"To me, looking back, it seems like I was just an empty headed playboy; that's what the press loved to print about me. But, I was so _lonely_. Mother was newly married to her second husband, and an adult son who couldn't manage his own success was not welcome in their house. I realize now that I was trying to show Kyra what she was missing; that I didn't need her in my life. Of course, it failed spectacularly. I ended up with a reputation as a drunken womanizer. And I never found what I was looking for."

"What were you looking for, Rick?"

"A family. Someone to care about me, be cared about by me. Mother helped me get cleaned up, eventually. Then, I discovered I was at a cross-roads, not quite sure what to do with myself. That's when Meredith Harper waltzed into my life."

"Who was she?"

"She was an actress, like my mother. I met her at a cast party. She was vivacious, fun. A bit crazy. We had a great time together, but she never captured my heart. Not like Kyra had. I doubt we would have lasted another month if it had all stayed the same," he trailed off, eyes sad. Kate reached for him, this time. Touched his shoulder in comfort.

"Hey, it's ok. You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to."

Rick looked over at her; she could see he was near tears. "I have to. This is the real reason I'm here, and not in the States."

She nodded, then instinctively took his hand and scooted closer. He'd been there for her; the least she could do was to try and be there for him.

"We were pretty hot and heavy, initially. Then one day, Meredith told me she was late. We ran out and got some of those home pregnancy tests. They confirmed my worst fears. She was pregnant. I was terrified. I had no idea how to be a father; I'd never had one, had no real examples. I spent a sleepless night wondering what the hell I was going to do. And then, as the sun rose I found myself bathed in the dawn light. I'd never gone to bed. And sitting there, warmed by the glow of the sun, I knew it would be okay. I stopped thinking about how a baby would impact my _lifestyle_ and started thinking about how a baby would affect my _life_."

"What do you mean?"

"A baby would give me someone to love, someone to care for. That's what I really craved, though I didn't realize it in those terms at the time. I was suddenly ecstatic; couldn't wait for my child to arrive. But Meredith? Well, she's not very maternal. She wasn't too excited about the baby part. But she was relishing the proximity to my money and fame. She hadn't had a lot of success in her career; at least on her talent alone. Being with me had introduced her to a new level of publicity that she came to love."

"You make her sound so…mercenary."

"Yeah, well that's a good term. Actually nicer than what _I_ would call her most days. I decided to propose; I wanted the wife, kid and white picket fence. Oddly enough, I really thought it would work. I just thought she needed some time to adjust to the whole idea of the baby. We had a scare about seven weeks in when she started bleeding. Everything checked out ok, but it made it all the more real to me. What I could lose, how much I wanted it all. I bought a ring, told my mother about it. I was disappointed with her reaction. But I knew she'd never cared for Meredith, and I hoped the baby would go a long way into bringing us all together."

"Then what on earth are you doing half way around the world from your child?" She couldn't imagine the man she knew abandoning his own baby, especially with the way he talked about having a family. It just didn't make any sense.

"I'm getting to that. It's not what it seems, please just let me finish, Kate."

She saw a stray tear trickle down his cheek, and she felt horrible. Obviously something had gone very amiss. And it was clear it had deeply affected him.

"I'm sorry, Rick. I'm jumping to conclusions, and it's not fair to you." She squeezed his hand again, then scooted all the way into him so that they ended up mutually supporting each other.

"I had planned out the proposal; had the ring, like I said. Then one day I came home early from a meeting, intending to finalize some details about the arrangements for the night I was going to ask for her hand. She didn't know I was coming home early. Neither did her director, who was in our bed with her."

Kate gasped, feeling some of the pain that must have pierced him in that moment travel through her own body. Rick shuddered, reliving the scene. Feeling the shiver, Kate instinctively wrapped her arm around his waist and pulled herself even closer to him. She had no words to make it better, but she would offer her support.

"We had a huge fight. I wanted to know if the baby was mine, or if she even knew whose it was. She claimed it was a one-time mistake; that she'd been faithful before, and of course the baby was mine. I told her I didn't believe her, and we spent several angry, miserable days fighting with any and all ammunition, verbally, that we could lob at the other. Needless to say, I didn't tell her about the ring or the proposal. The initial fury burned out after about a week, and I decided to trust her, outwardly, about the paternity of the baby. I'd simply get a blood test after the child was born, know for sure. We settled into a détente of sorts, trying to be happy again. But then…."

His body shook, and she knew it was bad. Tears were now falling freely from his eyes. Reaching up with one hand, she caressed one side of his jaw. "What happened, Rick?"

"Sh—she—she lost the baby," he sobbed, collapsing into her embrace. She felt her heart breaking for him, and just held him like he'd done for her all the times she'd broken down over the pain of losing her mother.

* * *

Rick cried for what seemed like forever, held tightly in Kate's arms. He'd never been able to let go to this degree, not even the day he'd learned that his baby was gone. His mother had embraced him, let him sob on her shoulder, but he'd always kept a piece of himself back. Here, under the now familiar stars of a different hemisphere and warmed by the body of the woman he'd come to love, he let go of all the pain and misery that he'd held onto for so long.

It was cathartic, and as he purged the grief from his soul he was suddenly glad that Kate had requested that he tell her his story. He knew how he felt about her; it was a love based in part on his admiration for her ability to overcome her own incredible traumas. If he'd kept himself shadowed, out of fear that she wouldn't like who he had been, she could never have returned his love. He understood that now. She needed to know the real Richard Rodgers. Not some artificial construct that proclaimed his strengths while trying to minimize his flaws.

Once he felt capable of continuing, he took a deep breath and started talking again.

"I felt crushed after that loss. I couldn't breathe in New York; didn't know what to do with myself. I had to get away, go somewhere to heal and find out who I really was. I told my publishing company that I was going off to do research on a new character. A man of many talents that I envisioned basing a whole series of books on. They agreed, though my publisher and my agent were aghast that I wanted to physically leave the country. They thought that was at best unnecessary and at worst simply self-serving. _I_ think they were afraid of losing their tenuous control over me; I wouldn't be under their thumbs."

"They don't sound like very nice people," she murmured, still holding him tight.

"Oh, they're very good at what they do. Gina Cowell was my first book agent, when that initial best-seller finally came through. She moved over to Black Pawn as my publisher after a few years, and I've continued to work with her on all the books I've written. Paula Haas then became my book agent. She is brash and outspoken. Both of them think they need to ride me constantly to keep me in line. I suppose they were right, at least when I was still that little boy living the life of a man when I was in New York. But I had to get away, and there was nothing they could do to keep me there. Richard Castle disappeared and Richard Rodgers took over."

"That's how you ended up in French Polynesia?"

"Yeah. I just picked somewhere around the world from New York. Wanted to get as far away as possible. Tahiti sounded exotic and relaxing. I invited Meredith. I thought maybe if we got through things together that we'd have a chance. But she was derisive; she would _never_ miss auditions and call backs. What _was_ I ever thinking?" he parroted, attempting to match her derogatory tones.

"When did you first come out here?"

"I arrived in Papeete on November 27th, 1998."

"Just past my birthday," she mused.

"When's your birthday?"

"November 17th."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty."

"Hmmm. Can't take you to a bar in the States, I guess. We'll have to think of some other way to celebrate if we get rescued this year." He winced after he realized he'd said _if_ and not _when_, but she didn't seem to notice.

"How old are you?"

"I'll be 28 in April. Much older and wiser than you, obviously." That earned him a playful pinch, which he gave a dramatic exclamation in response to, making Kate laugh. It was like music to his ears, and much preferred to the sobbing they'd both been doing too often as they rehashed their lives for the other.

"So, you came to Tahiti, and what? You've been here since 1998. I'd have thought that was more than enough research for anyone."

"Well, for almost two months I did next to nothing. I still wasn't happy, even in the middle of paradise."

Kate nodded, recalling her own feelings of wretchedness despite being surrounded by the natural beauty of Tahiti. She'd learned it wasn't the place that made you happy. That had to come from the inside.

"I was ready to throw in the towel and go home. My mother begged me too; she'd been okay with me leaving. Really the only one in my life that was. But she didn't understand the need for me to be gone for so long. I hadn't found anything inspiring enough to write about and I was terrified the whole exercise had been moot. And then, I met Anapa."

"How'd you meet him?"

"I was wandering around the docks. Trying to people watch, see if I saw anyone interesting enough that I'd want to try and capture them on paper. He saw me and thought I was at loose ends. Which I was, but he was worried I was desperate for a job and would be taken advantage of. He came over to me and struck up a conversation. I thought he was fascinating. You remember how kind and honest he is?"

Kate agreed, thinking fondly of both the captain and his wife. She hadn't known them long, but they were easily some of the nicest, most generous people she'd ever met.

"He offered me a job, on the _Iriata_. I said no at first; I didn't need a job, and certainly didn't want to be doing such strenuous labor. I was a soft writer, after all. But, there was something about Anapa that wouldn't let me forget him. I decided to do a trial run, figuring I'd spend a little time with him and Hina then get out and return home."

"So, what happened? Because you obviously didn't leave them after one run."

He chuckled. "No, no I didn't. I discovered it was all like a grand adventure. The sea, the sun, the islands. It was incredible. But even more than that, was just being around Anapa, Hina and the crew. Anapa treated me like a son, from the beginning. I'd never had a father in my life. I lapped it up like a starving puppy. And as one run turned into more, as a few days turned into months, I came to realize that I'd found a family. The very thing I'd been looking for in New York, but in all the wrong places. So, I stayed on. Learning all I could from both of them. They taught me so much; I'd never have survived a shipwreck a year ago. But under their tutelage I finally grew from a lost boy into a man."

"So you gave up writing?"

"No, not really. I learned so much from Anapa about how to survive, it imbued my new character with a strength of purpose that I'd never captured before. I wrote in my downtime, up in the bow, as you know. When we'd return to Papeete, I'd mail my completed work back to Gina. She hated that it was written out in longhand, but I didn't have any choice in the matter. I mailed the last chapter of my new book to her the night before we left to make the run to Mo'orea then on to Tupua'i."

"I wonder if they'll still publish it?"

"Well, I'm supposed to make all the final changes and approve it. But, I'd guess if they think I'm dead they'll push it through. Take advantage of the publicity that the disappearance of a best-selling author generates. Dead artists sell better than when they're alive, and all that. The morbid curiosity of the public. It's too bad, as I was really happy with the character, Derrick Storm. I was looking forward to writing more books about him."

"Were you planning on going back to New York anytime soon?"

He sighed, rubbed his head with one hand. "I honestly don't know. I loved being a part of the crew, a part of the family that I'd found. But I also knew I was avoiding my problems at home by staying away. I fled New York to get as far as possible from my fake friends and the conniving women who just wanted me for my public persona. I swore off it all: girls, drugs and booze. And I found I didn't miss any of it; rejoiced in a less complicated lifestyle. I think I was a little scared that if I went back that I'd fall right back into that trap again. Become Richard Castle once more."

"Do you really believe that?"

"No. Not really. I think I've grown up enough that I'm a different person than the boy that left New York. But it's still scary, not knowing how I'll respond."

"From what I've seen of you, Rick, there is no trace of that lost boy. You're an incredible man, and I know for a fact that you've saved my life. So, while I'm very sad that you went through so much, the journey has transformed you into someone that anyone would be proud to claim as a friend."

"Thank you, Kate," he said, hugging her tightly in return. "I can honestly say there is no one I'd rather be going through this whole experience with than you."

"Not even Anapa? I'm useless. I have to be taught everything. And I haven't been very good company over the last few weeks."

"Not even Anapa. I've enjoyed getting to know you, discovering the incredible depths that exist within you. And while it's true you didn't have any survival skills initially, you are a very fast learner. I think you're one of the most intelligent, capable people that I've ever met. So, while I wish you'd never had to go through the hell that this past year has been, had never lost your mom, I _am_ grateful for whatever force that guided you to come to Papeete and then seek out the _Iriata_ that day. I can't imagine not having you in my life."

No words were needed after that. They simply sat, leaning on each other as they began to learn that together they were stronger than either could be apart. It was a strength that would build inexorably over time, until even an accidental separation and the subsequent forces brought to bear against them would have no chance of tearing them apart.

* * *

**I wasn't sure I'd be able to update today: my job on occasion has the ability to submerge me to the point that it is very difficult to accomplish anything else. The last 30 hours have been a true lesson in the important things in life. I'd like to think I learned the secret to life long ago: to love others, and be loved in return. Nothing else really matters when it all boils down to the bare essence of existence. I can't accurately portray the agony of what I see some families live through without writing a tragedy that no one would want to read. I do urge you to hug your loved ones and remember that in the end we're remembered by the people that we touched and not the money we made or the things that we owned.**


	30. Chapter 30: I Love You, Kate

**This chapter is dedicated to hfce. Not only do I get interesting reviews from hfce, but also some absolutely great PMs. Really appreciate all the interest that this story has given rise to, and love hearing from people, whether it's in the form of a PM or a review. Thank you so much for all the comments, my friend!**

* * *

January, 2000

They went to bed shortly after, and spent a quiet night. Rick had covered the fish and the salt with tarps, weighed down with sand anchors, at sunset. The usual deluge overnight didn't concern them at all; they were quite snug in their little shelter, and were assured that their hard work would be safe.

Both Rick and Kate rose early the next morning. Kate seemed very quiet to Rick; he worried she was upset or concerned about some of the things he'd confessed to her last night. She'd needed time to contemplate it all, and now that enough time had passed, he prayed that she hadn't decided that he wasn't a worthy candidate for her affections.

And her affections were something he very much wanted to pursue. He knew he loved her. He wanted nothing more for her to return that love. He thought it was a definite possibility; thought they would be incredible together. But he would never think about forcing her into anything. That would backfire, as no one could make Kate Beckett do anything against her will. Plus, he didn't want her love unless it was freely given. It was only love if she came to him of her own volition.

They watched the sunrise together, relishing the beautiful colors that were painted across the sky. Kate still hadn't said anything of more consequence than 'good morning.' Rick knew she that while she was an early riser, she wasn't typically very talkative. Apparently before the shipwreck she'd always enjoyed coffee to get her day going. This was no longer an option. Still, he worried. He'd not bared his soul to anyone before, and it was terrifying to stand next to her the morning after. Not knowing what she was thinking: about him, about his story. About them.

After he'd uncovered the fish and the salt to continue drying in the sun, he returned to the surf to refill their bucket. The third batch of salt was already bubbling away on the fire, having only boiled about half the water off the night before. Kate gave him a tight smile when he came back with the bucket, but still remained reticent. Rick couldn't stand the silence any longer.

"Kate, you've been awfully quiet. I hope it's not about something I said last night."

She looked over at him, then half turned to face away, looking out at the breaking waves. His chest tightened as he watched her long hair blowing back from her face in the breeze off the ocean. There was something wrong. He didn't know how he'd live, knowing she'd never return his feelings. It would be torture. And who knew how long they'd be stuck here. He wished he'd been able to prepare her better for all he'd had to tell her. She'd had no idea of the depth of his depravity and now that she did, she clearly wanted nothing to do with him. He felt like such an idiot. God, how he wished he could have phrased it better, or been gentler about introducing it all. Maybe he'd said something badly, or not explained something well. It was.."

"Rick!" she sounded almost irritated.

"Huh? Yes, Kate?"

"Have you been listening to anything I said?"

"Uh…you were talking?"

She sighed. "I was trying. You were obviously in your own little world."

"Sorry. It's just…well, it's just that I shared a lot of disturbing stuff about myself last night, and you were so quiet today. I was worried you hated me."

"Hated you? I don't hate you, Rick."

"Then why have you been so quiet? More than usual, anyway?" he clarified in response to seeing one eyebrow quirk up.

"I've just been…thinking."

"I'm sorry, Kate. I shouldn't have laid it all on you last night. It was too much, too overwhelming."

"No, that's not it. You know I've been curious about your story for a while. I _wanted_ to hear it."

"You were shocked at the horrible life I've led. I'm not that person, Kate. Not anymore. I.."

Her hand on his arm quietened him. "Rick, stop. I've told you several times, nothing in your past is meaningful now. I know who you are, here on the island. I just…I." She paused, and for once Rick remained silent, waiting. Something was bothering her and she was trying to tell him. He had to be patient. Not something that came naturally to him.

"It's…well. Don't take this the wrong way, but why did you tell me all that? It was all so personal; you didn't have to tell me everything. I would have been satisfied with a less complete discussion."

Rick was taken aback. He'd done it so she'd know everything about him. He'd assumed she'd known how he felt about her, but perhaps she didn't understand just how deeply he cared for her. It was frightening to make himself so vulnerable, but he had to take the risk.

"You have to know why, Kate."

She looked up at him, through her lashes. It was an unguarded look, and he thought he saw her understanding. But the moment was lost after a few seconds.

"I—I think I do. I hope I do. But I don't want to assume anything. I guess I just want to make sure we're on the same page," she said shyly.

Rick nodded, taking a minute to collect himself. He wasn't sure how direct he could be, but decided that there was no value in holding back. He hadn't last night, and now she needed to know. He wanted her to know. He _needed_ her to know, so if there were no chance she felt the same way she could tell him. He didn't want to spend months dancing around the subject. Who knew how long they'd be here, have this time alone? If they were rescued, they would likely be separated, go back to their families. Especially if they didn't know how the other felt.

"I told you all that I did last night because I wanted you to know _everything_ about me. I don't want you to wonder if there's something I'm holding back or some secret that I'm keeping. 'Cause there's _not_." He paused for a minute, saw she was watching raptly. It was the right moment. "I…I care about you, Kate. A lot. In fact, you may not be ready to hear this, but…I'm in love with you. And I hope someday you'll feel the same for me. So, there's _nothing_ I want to hide from you."

Rick was waiting for a response. He wasn't foolish enough to think she was where he was—but he hoped she'd get there. Declaring himself so baldly was a huge risk, but she had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. She'd have to deal with her feelings, one way or the other. He just hoped it wasn't outright rejection, because she didn't look exactly happy with his exclamation that he loved her.

Kate was stunned. She knew he had strong feelings for her, but this openness with her was beyond anything she'd imagined. She wasn't in love with him—yet. However, she knew she could be. Her internal conversation just yesterday had shown her that much. But she also still harbored some doubts about his feelings. Not what they were; he'd made that clear. But if she deserved them.

"You love me? Why?"

That was not what he'd expected her to ask. But, ok, he could answer this.

"I love your spirit, your intelligence. Your adaptability. Your kindness. Your..."

"No, no, Rick," she interrupted, "that's not what I meant to ask. I mean, you're Richard Castle. You wrote books my mom stood in line to buy. She even made me go with her to a book signing once. Why do you love _me_? I'm no one special."

"You came to a book signing? When?"

"It was a couple years ago, at a bookstore near Central Park. But that's my point, I'm just a face in the crowd. You could have anyone you wanted. You're Richard Castle and I'm a no one from West Village."

Rick took the few steps that separated them and wrapped her in his arms.

"Oh, Kate. I told you, I'm _not_ Richard Castle. Not anymore. I know you don't feel the same way, not yet. It's too soon after January ninth; there's too much you still have to deal with emotionally. But I want you to know how _I_ feel so there are no secrets between us. If you don't think you can ever return my love, that's ok. I don't expect that you'll fall madly for me just because we're stuck on an island together. But I _do_ love you, for many reasons. And they have nothing to do with the fact that we are stuck here."

She didn't pull back or try to get free. In fact it felt right to stand there with him, locked in an embrace. She felt safe and secure, as she often did while in his arms.

"How do you know that it's real? This whole situation is so surreal; our life so separated from the real world. What if you feel this way just because there's no one else here with us? Because you are trapped here with me? How do you know it's really love?" she fretted. How could he really, truly be in love with _her_?

"Kate," he sighed, "do you remember everything I told you last night? About Kyra and Meredith?"

"Yes, I think so?"

"Then you know that I said that I didn't feel for Meredith as strongly as I felt for Kyra?"

"Yes." She thought this was an odd way to discuss his feeling for her, bringing up other girlfriends.

"So, until that time I thought that I'd never feel as much for anyone as I felt for Kyra. She was the one that I thought got away, my true love."

He could feel her stiffening in his arms. Knew he had to get his point made, quickly.

"I'm sorry, this may not the best way to describe how I came to the conclusion that I love you. But what I'm trying to tell you is _how_ I've realized that I was never really in love with either Meredith or Kyra. They were just relationships that were given to me so that when I finally, truly fell in love, I'd recognize it."

He pulled his head back, separating them enough so he could look down on her face. Let her see the love and sincerity in his eyes.

"Do you want to know how I know for sure I'm in love with you?"

She nodded slowly.

"Well, I feel more deeply for you than I ever knew was possible, but that's not the reason. You make my heart clutch when you laugh, and I'd happily spend the rest of my life trying to get you to smile that giant smile of yours. It lights up the world. But that's not the reason, either. I could tell you that I hate it when you're sad, and want to spend all day holding you or trying to comfort you, but that's not the reason. All of those things are true, but the real proof I know I'm in love with you is that I would let you go."

She looked at him, confused. "What?"

"When Kyra left me, I was so upset. Mad, sad, crazy with grief at times. I couldn't believe she'd do that to me. Yet, she did. And clearly she didn't share the same feelings as me. But I never wanted her to go. Even though she was clearly happier in London, I wanted her with me so that _I'd_ be happy. I've finally realized that's not love. Not true love, anyway."

He took a deep breath, let it out, then tried to continue. This last part was hard to verbalize, but it needed to be said.

"If there was a point where I knew for certain that you would be better off without me in your life than with me in your life, I would let you go. Because I love you so much, that I want only for you to be happy. My feelings don't factor into it, not at all. If you're hurting, I'd take it on; shoulder it for you if I could. Because it hurts _me_ worse, to see you in pain. I want you to have the world, Kate Beckett. I've never, ever felt that way about anyone. But I feel it for you. And that's how I know I'm finally in love, for the very first time."

Silent tears spilled from her eyes as she absorbed his words and the meaning behind them. She'd been loved, unconditionally: by her parents, her family. But never had anyone unrelated to her loved her like this. She heard the truth in his voice, saw the earnestness in his eyes. He loved her. He genuinely loved her.

He reached up, wiping away the tears.

"Hey, hey. I didn't mean to make you cry. You don't need to do or say anything right now, Kate. But I love you, and I hope and pray one day you'll feel the same way for me."

She took a shuddering breath, then leaned back into his chest, listened to his heart pumping beneath her ear. An organ that belonged to her as much as to him.

"You're right, Rick. It is too soon. I don't feel the same as you. I haven't been able to do or think about anything other than my mom. For the last year, it's been the event in my life that completely overshadows everything and everyone else. But…but…I'm not immune to you. I care about you, a lot, as well. Just give me time. I need to know you better, know you away from this month when everything is colored by what happened a year ago."

"I know, Kate, I know," he whispered, cheek resting on the top of her head as he held her in his arms.

"I never thought I'd ever recover from her murder. Sometimes I wondered if I even wanted to. If I never loved anyone again, I'd never be hurt like losing her hurt me. Never feel the agony ever again. But, these last few weeks; the last month or so with you, I've started to realize that while I'll always miss her, that life can go on. That it's worth risking the pain if you're with the right person. And for me? I think that's you."

Rick let out a huge sigh of relief. This was the best outcome, and he'd been afraid to hope for it. "I'll give you all the time you need. And if you never change your mind, that's ok. But I want to continue to be able to tell you everything. To continue how well we talk to each other, and are open with each other. Can we do that?"

"I'd love to be able to do that. I've never had anyone, other than my mom, that I could talk to about anything on my mind. Thank you so much, for being there for me. For taking care of me these last few weeks. No one did anything like that for me, after my mother died. It means the world to me, Rick, and I hope you know how much I appreciate it."

"I'll do anything to make you feel better, Kate. If that means holding you while you're crying, then I'm happy to do that. Just tell me if you need space away from me, or if I'm crowding you. I know you need more time alone than I do."

"I will. But I don't feel crowded when I'm with you. I just feel safe."

He gave her a tight squeeze, before letting her go. They were going to be all right. Given time, they'd be completely and utterly all right.

They spent the rest of the day in easy conversation, making more salt batches and keeping an eye on the fish. They talked about trivial things, learning more about each other and just enjoying the relaxed atmosphere on the little beach, where there were no pressing jobs to finish.

Their first two salt piles were now completely dry. Kate was a little discouraged with the quantity, but since they'd been able to start first thing in the morning, they were hoping to get at least four batches done today. They planned to stay one more day, and would continue to boil water up until it was time to leave. They could take any partially dried batches back with them, and would try and move the pot in the canoe, with the lid on, to finish boiling back at Pereora.

Kate continued to keep one eye out for any sign of ships, but remained disappointed on that front. There weren't even any contrails in the sky. No signs of any other living persons besides herself and Rick. She knew they were likely far from any commercial shipping lanes, and apparently from any air routes as well. It was sobering to think it might be months—or longer—for them to be rescued. She never considered for an instant that there might come a time when she wished they never had been found.

* * *

The final day at the beach saw them packing up and deconstructing the shelter and drying rack. They had a whole empty water bottle filled with finished salt, and three sheets with still-drying collections, along with a pot half boiled off.

Rick had tested all the fish; the key for dried fish was to make sure the thickest part of the fillet had no give to it at all. They all were unyielding, so he packed them into a loosely woven basket that Kate had put together from palm fronds while watching the salt pot the day before. She'd even made a lid for it.

Kate spent a few minutes putting the rocks in their SOS message back in line. No sense in letting it degenerate, not if she could help it. It was likely invisible from the ocean's surface, but if a plane ever happened by…well, might as well be prepared.

"You ready to go back?" he asked as she stood looking out at the distant horizon.

Turning to him, she gave him a little smile. "I'm ready to sleep on my mattress again, and to get away from all this sand. But it's been nice, being out here. Just wouldn't want to live out here for longer than a few days."

"It's kind of like our vacation house. We have to plan, pack, and travel to get here. And we love it, while we're here. But we're anxious to get back home, too."

She laughed at this analogy. "I'm sure there are people who would pay good money to have a vacation on a deserted tropical beach. But what I wouldn't give to have a thick mattress and soft pillow."

This single comment started what would be their whole conversation on the return trip. It helped them to learn more about the other, as well as helping pass the time during the otherwise quiet periods spent paddling back and forth.

"A mattress and pillow. Hmmm. Not bad. Know what I'd like? I'd love a hot shower and a real razor." Rick used one hand to rub his beard. He'd managed to keep it fairly short, as they had a pair of large shears, but there was no way to shave.

"Really? I'm surprised. Not about the shower, but about the beard."

"Why? It's hot and annoying."

"When I met you, on the _Iriata_, you had a beard. Shorter than this one, to be sure, but still a beard. Why do you want to get rid of it now?"

"Well, Miss Beckett, I'll have you know that I usually got a full shave when I was in port at Papeete. While at sea, I'd let it grow out to a short beard. There's nothing like holding a sharp blade to your neck while on a pitching boat to make you appreciate the merits of facial hair. But I always went to the barber shop when we hit the capital. I didn't have a free moment this last trip, when I met you. I was too busy trying to finish up the last chapter of my next novel. I figured we'd have plenty of spare time after we returned, but clearly that part of the plan didn't work out so well."

She rolled her eyes at the dramatic voice he used to emphasize the last phrase. "Well, you do have plenty of spare time."

"Not really. You see, the woman I'm currently living with makes me work my fingers to the bone, full of such silly demands like _food_ and _shelter_," he teased. He got a response, in the form of a splash of water in the face.

"Oh, sorry about that, Rick. I guess I wasn't watching my paddle that closely," she laughed.

"Ah, Miss Beckett. You will soon learn that I have a diabolical mind. And one of my very favorite pastimes is to plan my revenge. Bwahahahaha."

"I'm terrified. But speaking of shelter, are we going to be working on the rest of the path to the bamboo grove? What are your plans for our next jobs?"

"So, we do need to finish that. It'd be silly to stop working on it when we're so close. And a true shelter will make things so much easier; we'll sleep better, feel better in general. But it's a big job. I also want to completely thatch the roof over the kitchen, so that we have a place with fire available that is out of the weather. And we need to start working on some real furniture. I'm tired of sitting on logs, and we'll need it for when our home is finished."

"Furniture would be nice. It'd be great to have a table and some chairs in the dining area."

"Table and stools shouldn't be hard. I have an idea for some more comfortable chairs, and we'll need a bed. Also, some shelves for all the linens in the house and dishes, glasses and the like for the kitchen."

Kate noticed the lack of plural with the bed, but chose not to say anything. It would be weeks if not months before the house was complete, and who knew what might have happened by then?

"That's a big list. It'll be strange when we finish the house. Whatever will we do with our time?" she wondered.

Rick thought feverishly that he had some ideas, but he wisely kept those particular plans to himself. "There are some other projects I want to try my hand at, once we're done with the house. I'd love to make some irrigation system for the orchard. We'll be in the dry season in a few months, and we have no idea just how dry it might be. Running some bamboo piping from the waterfall to the orchard might very well mitigate the backbreaking labor hauling water with our one and only bucket would be."

"That's a great idea. I wonder how long before we'll get our first mangoes and papayas? They'll be a nice addition to our meals."

"I'm not sure. Since we're in the tropics, the growing season is all year round. Hopefully it won't be long. We have yet to plant any of the seeds, so that should be another thing to do. I'm not even sure what types there are in the barrels."

"Adding some variety to our diet would be great. What other projects were you thinking about?"

"I want to make a way to have water on hand for the kitchen. Not totally sure about that one yet, but I've been mulling it over. And a shower would be the height of luxury, instead of bathing in the lake every day."

"Sounds like we still have a lot of work to do," Kate mentioned. She leaned forward, expectantly. They were just about to cross from the channel to the lake, and she always loved seeing the transition from the narrow, dark confines of the channel to the wide open and sunny lake.

"It's so beautiful here," she said, turning to Rick after they'd made the passage.

"It's good to be home," he agreed, as they pointed the little canoe towards the shore nearest Pereora. Left unsaid was that, for him, home was now wherever Kate was.

* * *

**Thanks for all the caring words people have shared. It was a rough end to the week, the kind you never get used to dealing with in pediatrics. I finish my call tomorrow morning at 8 am and then get to just deal with the relatively simple craziness of clinic. I appreciate everyone's support.**


	31. Chapter 31: Building a Home with You

**This chapter is dedicated to Lala111202. Another dedicated reader who sends me lovely reviews and PMs. This is one of the great things about fanfic: you get to discuss and share your work with wonderful people from all over the world. I love hearing from people about what works and what doesn't; Lala111202 is great about corresponding with me. Thanks for all your kind words and for continually encouraging me!**

* * *

February, 2000

Kate paused, wiped the sweat from her forehead, then went back to weeding her little garden. The seeds had all sprouted, and she was looking forward to having fresh tomatoes, onions and green beans to add to their meals soon. She could hear the sound of Rick's saw cutting through more bamboo in the distance.

It had been a month since their trip to the outer beach for fish and salt. A very busy month, which had seen them finish the narrow path to the giant bamboo grove. Rick had then chopped down the pieces he wanted for the framework of their shelter, and they'd dragged them, one by one, to the water. It was much, much easier to lug them up to the building site in the clearing once they were floated down to the shore nearest Pereora.

Kate had been needed to help with the initial framing. There was no way Rick could have done it alone, and they had just finished the last piece of the initial frame for the roof and walls the day before. It was a roughly octagonal shape, with a large central pole that had eight roof rafters running down to meet the vertical poles for the walls.

At about twenty four feet in diameter, Kate thought it was much bigger than they needed, but Rick had been insistent that they'd appreciate the extra room. He'd chosen an octagon to minimize any wind impact on the roof, though they were protected fairly well within their little clearing.

Rick was very pleased with his plans for the house, once he'd sketched it out on a piece of his precious paper. He was using techniques learned from seeing traditional structures in the islands and discussing them with Anapa and the rest of the crew, all of whom had opportunities to help in the construction of various buildings through the years. However, without direct knowledge, he had come up with some of his own ideas as well. He was trying to improve things where he could. For example, in Tahiti, sleeping buildings were traditionally built on dirt or rocks. He planned on having an elevated floor, made with more bamboo. It would be cleaner, and drier than a traditional structure.

His plan called for the roof to overhang the walls by about a foot. Each wall, save one, would have a lower portion, about waist high, that was fixed to the elevated floor. This would be composed of thatching, like the roof. However, the upper part of the wall would be hung from each cross beam that ran between every two load bearing vertical poles that made up the outer framework. This mobile piece of the wall could then be propped open with a long piece of bamboo, raising it up to become an extension of the roof. With all the upper walls open like this, there would be the ability to have complete air circulation through the house. These 'windows' could also be closed, by removing the bamboo that supported them. Rick planned that they could tie them down, to the fixed lower wall, in case of rain.

He'd asked Kate to weave large screens for them as well. These would also hang from the top plate, but inside each window. He wanted them to span the length of one piece of the wall, so they could leave the 'windows' propped open, but still have a way to screen out the worst of the bugs and provide shade if desired during really hot, sunny days.

Only seven of the walls had the windows and screens; the eighth was where he was placing the door, closest to the kitchen and pergola. He'd considered making another door to exit nearest the path to the outhouse, but decided that wasn't necessary. It would be easier to extend the bamboo path around to the front door.

Rick also decided it would be nice to have some sort of porch on the front. However, Kate had convinced him that was a project that could wait. She was right, he had plenty to do. He'd just build a temporary step, then work on the porch later. There was enough room in the clearing in front of the house to make a good sized platform. The front door faced mostly west south west, so evenings would be quite enjoyable. He was really excited for it all to be done; the problem was building it. Or rather, finding time to build it.

Digging out the post hole for the magnificent piece of bamboo he'd chosen to be the central support for their house took nearly half a day. He'd wanted it deep, and so took the time to do it right. However, even as he and Kate got it positioned and level with a plumb line he'd made, he knew there was no way he could engineer it to withstand a cyclone.

They weren't very common; the one they'd had the misfortune of running into had been a rare event. But, it would be catastrophic. It was an issue he worried about even as he measured out the lengths needed for the eight vertical exterior wall poles, dug their holes and placed them.

Digging an underground shelter, like those for tornados in the States, would probably get them drowned. If not drowned, wet enough to appear that they had. They hadn't found any caves, or even large lava tubes, during their exploration of the island just after Christmas. However, there was one part of the island's interior that remained unmapped: the area just behind the waterfall. He knew due to undercutting erosion by water that the area behind a waterfall often formed a natural cavern. Perhaps they could seek shelter there. If it existed.

Frantic labor to get the rest of the frame in place and the entire structure tied together took up the next few weeks, and Rick was thrilled with the results. It was a very solid structure, and would stand for a long time, barring Mother Nature.

Today, he was cutting the bamboo that would run from the central pole to the outer poles and support the floor. Once it was all cut, he'd have Kate help him get it in place, then most of the rest of the structure he'd be able to do on his own. Not that he didn't enjoy working with her; quite the opposite in fact. But, there were so many other things to do, like work in the little garden they'd started with some of the seeds. She had also been tasked with gathering the copious amount of palm and Pandanus leaves they'd need to start making the thatching tiles.

He felt that they had continued to draw closer to each other, though they were both working so hard right now that there was little time to do much beyond working, eating and sleeping. However, he'd borne witness as Kate had slowly blossomed into the woman he'd always imagined she could be. Now that January was receding rapidly, she was more apt to laugh and smile than ever. And she seemed to enjoy working with him on their house, asking lots of questions about what he was doing and why he chose to do something in a particular manner.

Finishing his final cut, he looked up at the sun. It was near midday, and time for a break. He walked out of the clearing and quickly made his way onto the plain where they'd established their garden, next to the fruit trees. She was there, weeding as he'd heard her mention that morning.

"Hey, Kate. Ready for a break?"

She looked up and gave him a giant smile. The kind that he died in every time she gave him one.

"Sure, Rick. You finished cutting the joists for the floor?"

"Yep, just finished. I thought we'd have lunch together, then maybe you could help me position them? It's the very last of the framework we'll have to do together."

"That's pretty exciting. I'm basically done here. Look at the tomatoes!" she exclaimed happily. They were noticeably growing daily, which was quite gratifying.

"Say, Rick?" she asked as they walked together back to the pergola and their luncheon of fruit, "I was wondering if it'd be okay to use the saw if you're done with it for a while?"

"Sure, Kate. There are a couple of saws, so use whatever you want. But do you need some help with something?"

"No, it's a surprise," she said, mysteriously.

"A surprise! I love surprises! What is it?"

"You'll just have to wait and find out. But you'll definitely like it."

"When will it be done? Today? Tomorrow?"

"Rick, you have the patience of a gnat. It'll be done when I show it to you. I have no idea how long."

He looked over at her, drinking in her sun-kissed hair, deep tan, sparkling eyes. "I have all the patience in the world when it's something I want, Kate," he stated. The moment between them heated up as he stood staring into her eyes. It felt electric, and for a brief moment he thought she was going to lean into him, maybe even kiss him.

The moment was lost, though, when one of their stupid chickens startled from something, just outside the pergola. The sudden, indignant squawk and flapping wings ruined the spell they'd been under, and Kate turned away from him, blushing. Damn chickens. They'd had it in for him from the time he'd been put to stacking their crates in the cargo hold.

After lunch, it took them less than two hours to finish the floor joists. Kate had learned quickly how to join the poles together, and with her helping tie everything down, the job was done quite rapidly. He'd sacrificed one of their invaluable nylon ropes for the roof, as it was the most important piece of the structure. The rest would be fine with their homemade rope. Kate had become very proficient in making it, so he wasn't worried about sacrificing strength. Durability was the only concern, but it would be easier to keep an eye on potential wear and tear from the ground.

"Do you need any more help, Rick?"

"Nah, I'm good for now. Thanks for your assistance."

"What's the next step?

"I'm going to start in on the purlins next." She gave him a quizzical look, so he explained, "Those are the pieces that run between the rafters. I'll put up the longest ones, those that run between the rafters nearest the edge of the roof, first. Then it's just a matter of going up, with them getting shorter and shorter as I approach the top, where the center pole is located. It's like you're building a ladder on the way up."

"And you layer the thatch over the pu...p…what was the word?"

He smiled at her. She was so adorable, he couldn't help it. "Purlins. And yes, that's what I tie the thatch into."

"It sounds a bit dangerous, climbing up the roof. It's pretty high, up at the top," she added, looking up at the central pole. Rick had made a ladder from bamboo to get up to the point where the rafters all met, but this would be climbing over the structure itself.

"I'll be careful. The roof and the purlins are quite strong; they have to be, as the thatch is quite heavy. It, in turn, will be heavy so that it's waterproof. It'll be nice to have somewhere to sleep without drips waking you up."

* * *

Rick worked until dinner on the first of the purlins. The first few were the hardest, as he had to use the ladder to go from side to side to side, and that took time to move. Once he got a few in place, he'd just perch on the already completed purlins, and could move around the roof on them at will.

He'd heard Kate working on something, but restrained his curiosity. She wanted to surprise him; he wouldn't spoil that. She was becoming more and more playful with him. He felt like he was seeing the real Kate Beckett—probably her first appearance since her mother's murder. It was…encouraging.

"Kate?" he called out. "I'm going to fix dinner."

"Ok, be there in a few minutes," she called back.

When she made her way to the kitchen, she found him plating out some baked sweet potatoes, covered with a warm stew he'd had bubbling on the fire since that morning at breakfast.

"Thanks, Rick. It smells delicious."

"You're welcome, Kate. How is the top-secret project going?"

"Well, funny you should ask. I think I'll be done sometime tomorrow. It's going very well, and I'm quite happy with it so far."

"I am intrigued. Any hints?" he teased.

"Hmm, well, let's see. Umm, ok. It's something you want, a lot."

Rick had to bite his tongue to keep 'that would be you' from spilling from his mouth. His face must have looked funny though, as she laughed at him.

"No guesses, Rick? You'll just have to wait until tomorrow, then."

He chuckled, relieved she hadn't caught his misstep. "I was thinking that we'd go swimming after dinner, but not here."

"Oh, where do you want to go?"

"I was just thinking about how proud I am of the house so far. It's really strong, and I think it'll last a long, long time. But, it'd be no match for a cyclone, if we ever had the misfortune of getting hit. That got me to thinking about what the native islanders do when there's a bad storm."

"What's that?"

"They hide in lava tubes or caves. Both of which we seem to be lacking. But then I thought of the one place on the island we haven't really explored so far."

"Behind the waterfall!"

"Exactly. You've been thinking about it too?"

"I just remember when we first were exploring, that I wondered if there were any caves behind it. Maybe something that led to the sea, so we wouldn't have to use the canoe to go back and forth."

"I don't want to seem like a spoilsport, Kate, but I doubt there's anything that extensive behind the falls."

"Yeah, I realized that when we canoed around the island. It's a solid appearing mass, and there weren't any more beaches. That's why I never brought it up."

"Well, let's find out after dinner. I was going to take one of our shell oil lamps and sacrifice one of our last matches. I can't figure out how to get light back there, otherwise."

An hour later, they were standing on the shore next to the falls. There was no way to see behind them, and no path that they could walk on. It would have to be swum.

Rick had always been a good swimmer, but the last few months spent in the water nearly every day had made him even better. He felt entirely comfortable swimming under the thundering water, not concerned even if there was a solid wall. The falls weren't forceful enough for him to think it would be very dangerous. He also felt safe taking Kate with him. She was an excellent swimmer, like him; long, lithe limbs that knifed through the water.

"Ready?"

She nodded. He checked that the shell, bottle of oil, matches and wick were in the waterproof pouch that normally housed his paper and pens.

"Ok, let's go," he said, wading into the water. Kate followed and they swam together to the area just in front of the middle of the falls. The current was fairly strong, but Rick was glad to note that it wouldn't keep them from swimming forward.

He turned to her; she was a vision with her hair wet and framing her face, eyelashes sparkling in the late afternoon sunlight. He gulped, suddenly glad they were in the water, concealing as it was.

She gave him a thumbs up, and they turned as one and sliced through the water towards the unknown underbelly of the waterfall. The sensation of the water hitting him as it fell from the upper reaches of the island was nice; almost like a super-efficient shower. Then, in a heartbeat, he'd burst through, past the veil of water, and found himself in a dark pool. Kate was next to him, breath indrawn as she tried to look around.

There was some dim light that penetrated the falls. They were in a hollow, and Rick found that he touched the bottom within a few strokes. The lake bed shallowed rapidly, and he was soon standing on a rock floor; he couldn't see anything beyond as it was cast in inky darkness.

He heard some splashing as Kate swam forward, then joined him in climbing out of the water.

"It's bigger than I thought. I wonder how far back it goes?" she wondered. Her words echoed around them, sounding quite odd with the thunder of the falls already echoing off the walls they couldn't see.

"Let me get the lamp lit and we'll see." He knelt on the rock and carefully poured some of the candlenut oil into the shell, then arranged the wick before striking the match. Lamp lit, he stood with it in one outstretched hand and they had their first glimpse of the cavern.

It stretched back from the entrance, walls gradually tapering until they met in a soft curve at the back. The ceiling sloped down as well; it started at around twenty feet high, and appeared to be just around six feet at its lowest. Around fifteen feet wide, it was perhaps twenty feet deep.

"This is quite roomy," Rick said, striding forward on the smooth rock that made up the entire chamber. The area nearest the falls was damp; some of the spray of the falling water making its way onto the walls. However, the majority of the back of the chamber was quite dry. It was very cool, with no sun to warm it.

"I can't believe how big it is, Rick," exclaimed Kate.

"I know, right? This would be perfect for shelter from a bad storm. We could bring in a stack of wood, and place some stores in here. It's cool enough to act as a root cellar."

"That sounds good, though how are you going to do that without getting things wet?" she queried. Sometimes Rick's ideas ran far ahead of their practicality. It was something she loved about the two of them. He was the one with dreams and ideas. She often had the practical answer or solution when his were too grandiose.

"Well, we don't know how dry it gets here, out of the rainy season. Perhaps there's a lot less water, and we could swim it or even walk it in from the shore? Maybe there'll be enough room to do that, with less volume coming down. Plus, we don't know how far the water level of the lake will fall."

"Rick, those are good questions, but what if neither of those scenarios come true?"

"Then, we'll have to make some waterproof baskets and float them in. My bag isn't big enough to hold anything substantial. And it wouldn't matter about the wood. It would dry out, eventually."

She nodded, acquiescing to his plan. It held merit. Having a cool, dry place to store things like potatoes would allow them to harvest a lot more and have a stock in case something happened. And it was the perfect place to shelter from any storms.

Kate moved to the back, looking around. There was surprising little debris, so it would take little effort to make the place habitable and useful. She knelt down at the very back and brushed a few rocks away. Rick had walked up behind her and was looking around as well. She didn't realize that he'd knelt down next to her; at least she didn't realize it until she pivoted on the balls of her feet and found his face just inches from hers.

They both froze, eyes locked on the other. Kate could hear his breathing quicken, become harsher. He licked his lips, and she suddenly realized how badly she wanted to kiss him. Or have him kiss her. A sizzle of energy tingled through her, starting from her abdomen and pulsating out in a wave. It was so strong, she was shocked she didn't see it leave her pores and strike him.

He closed his eyes and let out a slight groan. "Kate." It came out more as a moan than a real sound. His eyes still closed, he tried breathing deeply in through his nose, fighting for control. Suddenly, he spun back around on his feet, stood abruptly and stalked to the edge of the cavern, where it met the water. Setting down the lamp, he spoke to her, back still to her.

"I'm just going to see if there is some sort of ledge or something on either side of the falls." And with that, he was gone, wading quickly into the water and disappearing under the thundering curtain.

Kate collapsed onto her bottom, legs giving out, heart racing. Her thoughts looped over and over, reviewing that moment. She'd thought he was going to kiss her. She'd hoped he was going to kiss her. And, she couldn't deny that she'd _wanted_ him to kiss her.

The last month had progressed much as Kate had hoped. They'd developed a very easy relationship. He was the perfect companion to be exiled with. Skillful, certainly. Attentive, without a doubt. Intellectually challenging, but with a streak of humor that often had her laughing hysterically. She'd discovered that the best moments of her day were always with him. And it had nothing to do with whatever job they worked. Even the hard labor of raising the support poles for the house had been made fun by his company.

He'd taught her a lot; almost as if he wanted her to know as much as he did, in case something happened to him. Kate now felt completely at ease gathering their food and preparing it, making the rope that was so necessary to their comfort and survival, and working with the bamboo and the tools to make functional buildings or other items for them. The only thing she would quail at trying was using the canoe by herself, out in the open ocean. However, Rick also wouldn't risk that; they always went together if they needed to go to the outer rim of the island.

And as her time with him taught her just how much she valued him as a friend and a person, it also had the virtue of beginning to heal her broken heart. Rick's love, which he had continued to demonstrate in thousands of gestures—tiny to grand—had given her back the comfort of having someone care for her. As a result, she'd been able to stop dwelling on what she'd lost, and was in the slow, but inescapable, process of realizing what it meant to be alive. And to find joy in the little things through the day that show the beauty of living on earth.

She still wasn't ready to enter a relationship with him. However, she now had to admit for the first time that she would be ready. Soon. There were several items that had to be addressed first, but she knew the day was coming rapidly where their mutual passion would explode. Moments like this one in the cave and the one earlier in the kitchen were becoming more frequent, and more difficult to rein in. And it was getting harder and harder to explain to herself why they needed to restrain it.

* * *

**A guest reviewer wondered about the age discrepancy being different, and that Meredith's pregnancy with Alexis would have been earlier than what I've described. This story is A/U. I didn't think it reasonable when I first started writing it that Rick would be at loose ends and trying to find himself at age 30. Thus, I decided to compress their age difference a bit to make it (IMO) more believable. This by necessity moves the date of Meredith's pregnancy. **

**The design I came up with for their house is based on traditional building methods of Polynesia, coupled with reading a lot about yurts from Mongolia. The structure I've described is something I completely made up; I have no idea if it would be feasible to build it. However, in thinking over the way I picture it in my head, I can't think of anything that is unreasonable in its design. When I have time, I'll try and draw out the plans better and put them on Tumblr.**


	32. Chapter 32 Part 3: Shelter Me

**Today's dedication will be at the end of this chapter.**

* * *

February, 2000

They didn't talk about the moment in the cavern. Kate, because she wasn't quite there yet; not ready to advance to the next stage. Rick, because he didn't want to push her. He was afraid that he would lose his focus, which was too easy to do around her. An unguarded instant on his part might frighten her off. Or make her angry. So, he resolved to try and avoid intimate moments such as the two they'd had today. He had a house to finish, and his energy and unfulfilled passion could be channeled into that job.

Rick had found that there was a ledge just wide enough to walk along on the side of the waterfall opposite to the shore they occupied. It was about three feet below the current water level, and led all the way to the shore. This would simplify stocking the cave significantly, though they would have to ferry their supplies to that shore, or use that side of the lake to harvest the foods they wanted stored.

The rest of the night was spent discussing what they'd cache in the cave and planning some times to accomplish it all. Most cyclones occurred during the rainy season, which ended in March. Rick thought hauling in some wood for a fire now would be sensible, but they could wait for the rest until they had more time. Kate concurred, and they decided to spend part of the next morning crossing that task off their list.

The night passed without further incident, though perhaps a bit fitfully for both. Neither slept well, hyperaware of the other on the adjoining mattress. As dawn broke across the sky, they were both up and ready to start the day. Determined to avoid awkward junctures, Kate engaged him in meaningless banter and tried to tease him about the surprise she would be working on later in the day.

After canoeing to the far shore, Rick spent the morning chopping down a couple trees and splitting the wood while Kate gathered fallen limbs. They soon had a sizeable pile on the shore; Rick got in the water with his seine net and Kate tossed the wood logs in the lake after him. Gathering up a load in the net, he pulled it along behind him, and steadily drew it into the cavern after he swam under the falls. Kate followed, making sure none of the logs broke free. They stacked the wood in the back, and Rick left a shell lamp with oil and wicks separated. He also left about half of the very few matches they had. He'd made a fire bow during some of the down time they'd had out on the beach making salt, so they had started using it nearly exclusively for sparks. It wasn't quite as fast as a match, but once he'd shown Kate how to use it, she'd been successful with it after practicing for some time.

After making two more trips, they had a nice pile of slowly drying wood and the peace of mind that if a storm blew in, they had a safe haven to go to. As they paddled back to Pereora, Kate asked Rick about the rest of his day.

"Continuing on the purlins. I really want to get started on the thatching. How is the harvesting of the leaves going?"

"Great. There's plenty now dry, ready to start."

"Ok, I'll show you how to start making the battens, and we'll be able to start roofing before you know it."

When they got back to Pereora, Kate showed Rick the large number of Pandanus leaves she'd dried. He'd also had her gathering coco leaves, and showed her how to split the midrib out. Using ribs about four feet in length, they then sandwiched two Pandanus leaves, shiny side out. One end of this pair was folded over the midrib and 'sewn' with another rib so that the ends folded over were joined. This was repeated until the entire four foot length of the midrib was supporting numerous pairs of Pandanus leaves. This comprised one batten.

When Rick was ready to start thatching, he'd take a batten and tie it to a purlin on the roof. The thatching, just like the purlins, was begun on the far edge of the roof. Each subsequent layer was then tied so that it overlapped the layer below. It would take a lot of labor, from both of them. But in the end they would have a waterproof roof that would last as long as five years.

As with all the jobs that required some facility with her hands, Kate found it very easy to make the battens for the thatch. She was able to get a good start on it after they'd returned from the cavern. After lunch, however, she decided to finish up her surprise for Rick. She knew he'd be excited, and honestly, it would make the construction of the thatch battens even easier. She was not quite finished by dinner time, but it was close enough that Rick could help her do the last bit.

"Kate?"

She heard him calling from the kitchen area. It was time for them to eat, but she was determined to show him her surprise before they ate. Plus, it would make dinner an even more pleasant experience. She hurried back to where he waited for her, standing silhouetted by the late day sun. Her breath caught at the sight, the outline of a man in his prime. The outline of Rick. Her heart beat sped up noticeably.

"Kate. Where've you been? It's time for dinner."

"I was finishing the surprise. But it's not quite done."

"That's ok. You'll have some more light after dinner, or first thing in the morning."

"I really wanted to surprise you before dinner. And even though it's not entirely done, I think you'll like it. Do you mind coming now?"

"Mind? No, I don't mind. Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. It'll actually add to dinner, and to the work on the battens."

"Ok, now I'm dying of curiosity. Lead on, Ms. Beckett."

He followed her to where she'd been working. It was a small stand of bamboo, none big enough for use on the house for framework, so Rick hadn't bothered with it.

"Ok, now it's your turn to close your eyes," she admonished.

"Kate…," he whined.

"Nope, you made me do it. Your turn."

"All right, if you insist," he huffed. "Are you going to keep me from falling, like I did with you?"

"Nope."

"No! You're going to let me fall?" His eyes had flown open again.

"No, calm down, Rick. You don't need to walk anywhere. Just—stay _here_. Don't move, and keep those eyes closed."

"Fine," he grumbled, closing them again. "But I hope you hurry up, because you know I hate surprises."

She was moving about in the foreground, moving something. Sometimes it sounded like it was heavy; other times it seemed like it was something light.

"Can I open my eyes yet? Huh, Kate?"

"No!" she exclaimed, irritably. "Just one more minute. Honestly, I have no idea how you have the patience to build a house, for goodness sakes."

"But that's different. I'm always doing something, when it comes to the house. Right now I'm just standing, with nothing to do."

"Well, I'm ready. Ok, open your eyes."

He didn't hesitate, eyes flying open ready to drink in whatever it was that she'd been preparing to surprise him. And surprised he was. And pleased.

"Wow, Kate! This is…its incredible."

"Do you like them?"

"Yes! It's way better than I could have done." He was standing in front of a fairly large bamboo table and two stools.

"Come try out the stool," she encouraged. "They're completely done, but the table is not quite finished."

"It looks finished," he said, thoughtfully, as he examined the stool, then sat down with a sigh of contentment. "This is awesome. So much better than the ground or those dumb logs we were using."

She'd made the stools out of four equal lengths of bamboo, forming a slight rectangular shape. It was cross braced with more bamboo halfway down, while the seat was a woven mat of coco leaves, salvaged from the ones used for their midrib to make battens.

The table base was four more lengths of bamboo with cross beams connecting them. On top of this frame rested a surface composed of equal lengths of bamboo tied together to make a solid surface.

"Why do you say the table isn't done?" he asked, curious. "It looks fine."

"It's almost done. But the top isn't attached to the bottom frame yet. I need to tie it all together, but I didn't have time before you called for me."

"That actually might be an advantage. It will be easier to carry back to the kitchen if they are separated."

"That's true. Good thinking."

"I'm full of good ideas," he grinned at her. "Let's carry the stools and the bottom frame of the table back to the kitchen, then we can carry the top of the table back, together."

Once they had all the pieces back in the kitchen, Rick helped her tie the top of the table to the frame very quickly. It fit very nicely under the pergola, though there would be more room once they got rid of their tent. Next, Rick set the table with their dishes, while she prepared the dinner. Once everything was ready, he took a step back and just stared at the sight of the table holding their meal.

"This is amazing, Kate. What a nice surprise, and you're right, this will definitely help making the battens for the thatch. It will be so much more comfortable to sit at a stool with the table to work with rather than sitting on the ground."

"It does look nice, doesn't it?"

"I wish I had a camera, to record this moment. Everything is finally coming together; starting to feel like a home instead of just a camp. Thank you."

* * *

March, 2000

The next few weeks passed in a cloud of exhaustion for Rick. He was determined to get the house done as quickly as possible. For some reason, he'd decided that he couldn't, _wouldn't_, try to move forward with Kate until the house was at least roofed and floored. In other words, habitable. He felt it would be yet another seminal moment in their relationship if he could offer her a permanent, comfortable shelter to live in.

So, he worked from dawn until dusk. First, he had to finish placing the purlins. Then came the tying on of all the battens. Since Kate was working on churning them out full time, he was able to continue working on the roof without interruption. Day by day, the thatch slowly climbed up the sloped roof. It took over a week to finish it all, but Rick was incredibly proud when they were done.

He strongly considered moving their tent under the roof; it had proven to be dry during one of the ubiquitous rain storms. However, there were still no walls and no floor. Moving their stuff would waste part of a day, and as he started in on the flooring, it would interfere with his construction on that front.

Now that Kate had finished the battens, Rick explained his plan for the fixed walls. Kate understood what he wanted, but wasn't thrilled with the entire plan.

"Let me get this right. You want the walls to be thatched as well?"

"Yes, more or less." Seeing her look of doubt, Rick pressed forward. "It's to make it waterproof as well. A lot of these storms have some good wind gusts with them, and if the sides aren't sealed, I'm afraid we'll still be getting wet."

"I agree, but it doesn't need to be thatched. I can weave mats to size, that are basically waterproof. It'll look better and go much faster. I can weave a mat pretty quickly. Making battens for the walls would take longer."

Rick considered the idea. He'd honestly not thought about using mats. The only material he knew could be waterproof was thatch, so that's why he'd chosen it.

"Ok, Kate. Go ahead and make your mats. We can always augment things later, if we need to."

"Gee, Rick, your confidence in my skills is overwhelming."

He halted, shocked. He hadn't meant it that way. "No, Kate. I didn't mean to question your skills. I was thinking about my blueprints for the house, and these windows and things. I have no idea if they're going to work, so I figure we'll try something out and if it's a bad way to solve a problem? Well, we'll just come up with a new plan. I wasn't talking about your idea with the mats. I think it's a good plan."

She grunted, not entirely swayed by his words, and more than a little annoyed at him. Sometimes, she'd found he was a bit resistant to ideas that weren't his own. Even if they were better ideas. He was a typical man, in that sense. And it could be irritating.

* * *

Rick hated doing the floor probably more than any other part of building the house. It was time consuming and required precise measuring and cutting. He realized he was in trouble when he started in on the first section. There were eight floor joists radiating out from the central pole to the wall posts. He had planned to run the split bamboo floor across each joist; there would then be eight pie pieces of progressively smaller bamboo splits, until they hit the central post.

He soon discovered that this approach simply wouldn't work. Each floor joist was simply not wide enough to carry the two sides of the flooring that would be needed. If he'd had access to drills and screws, it would've been fine. He could simply fasten each side to half the floor joist, letting them abut up next to each other. It would have required careful miter cuts of the ends, so they'd fit together on the floor joist but it would have been solid and smooth.

However, he had none of those resources. He had to tie his floor to the joists. Which meant each section had to cross its joist, in order to be tied down. Which was impossible, since they'd then cross over each other.

He considered orienting the bamboo lengthwise, but couldn't figure out an easy way to do this and maintain structural integrity as he'd have to reduce the amount of bamboo drastically as it approached the central pole and the area of the rough triangle narrowed to a point. Again, the issue was that of having to tie it all down. More secure ways of fastening it would have made it simple, but despite his fervent wishes no plane flew overhead and accidentally dropped a box full of screws and drills. Nor did any genies pop out of their shell lamps. More's the pity.

In the end, Kate was the one who helped him figure it out. She had taken her job of making the fixed walls quite seriously, and had been the one to cut and place the half-wall beams, then started weaving the mats to fit the space. She'd heard him muttering to himself as she worked on one of the walls. Ignoring him, at first, she'd finally gotten tired of his childish behavior when he kicked a clump of dirt violently.

"What is wrong? And don't say 'nothing' because there is obviously something going on with you. I thought you were working on the floor?"

"Well, I would be, if I could figure out how to do it."

"I don't understand the problem. You laid a floor of bamboo for the outhouse and even built the seat for it out of bamboo. What's different?"

"The outhouse was rectangular. That's easy. I don't know why I chose a freaking round shape for this house; I can't figure out how to lay the floor."

"You told me you chose to make it round to minimize wind forces on the roof. You said something about yurts in Mongolia, if I recall."

She was right. He had been thinking about yurts at the time. And thinking that their roof would be the part of the house most vulnerable to damage, which is why he'd sacrificed some of their invaluable nylon to its cause. But he hadn't thought about the damn floor.

"Now I know why so many huts in Tahiti had dirt floors," he sulked.

Kate rolled her eyes again, amused and irritated at his childish behavior. "Well, I'd highly prefer to have a nicer floor than dirt, personally. Ok, explain to me exactly why you're struggling here."

Rick passionately detailed for her what the issues were. He honestly couldn't see a solution, and the more frustrated he became, the more hopeless it all seemed.

"So, what you're saying, is that these eight floor joists aren't wide enough to tie the floor to?" she asked, seeing what he was talking about.

"Yes." That was the issue in a nutshell.

"Why don't you just make them wider?"

Rick was staring forlornly at the bare, mocking joists. How he had come to hate them, in such a short time. He'd chosen ones that were large, or so he'd thought at the time, knowing they'd carry the load of the flooring and furniture. However, they were not large enough, as it had turned out.

"Rick!"

"Huh?"

"You weren't paying attention to me again."

He looked over at her; she was obviously frustrated with him, standing there with one arm on her hip, posture stiff. She was so cute when riled up. But that thought would get him nowhere right now.

"Sorry. I'm just so annoyed with myself, for having not thought this through. And now I can't come up with a solution; it's keeping us from moving in." And from moving forward, together.

"I asked why you just can't make them wider?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I was thinking about that. I'll have to go find eight more pieces from the giant bamboo grove to replace these, but it's still going to be a difficult process."

"No, that's not what I meant. Why don't you just cut two more pieces of bamboo that're about as wide as one joist, then tie them to either side of a joist. Making the joist the center of a sandwich of bamboo. Then tie the floor to those pieces."

Rick stared at her in disbelief. It was…brilliant. "That would—absolutely work. You're a genius, Kate!" He walked over to her, picked her up in his arms and swung her around, laughing out loud. "Thank you so much!" Then he leaned over and kissed her cheek before skipping out to his bamboo supply. Leaving behind one shell-shocked woman who was breathlessly wishing he'd kissed her lips and not her cheek.

* * *

Once he had a solution, it was a matter of doing the work. And he worked like a demon. With a roof and a floor, he figured that would be enough for them to move in. Kate was working hard on the walls; in fact she had finished two of them before he'd finished harvesting and adding the sister joists to all eight pieces.

Next, he'd started splitting bamboo. Each stem could be split into four pieces, from which he then shaved off any obvious rough parts and then cut to fit area between two sister joists. Each piece of flooring was tied to its neighbor, and at both ends to the joists. He also ran some half joists about to the mid-point of each section, providing some more support of the outermost sections that had the widest gap between the original floor joists.

It was labor intensive, but with his goal in mind (i.e. Kate), he worked non-stop. He'd finished six of the sections within a week and a half. It went faster as he gained more experience with the process, and he figured he could finish the next two sections within a few days. Which was great, as he'd started dreaming of split bamboo and the angle cuts needed to fit them into each other. Far, far less pleasant than his usual dreams of a brown haired, hazel eyed siren.

He was sitting in the kitchen, enjoying breakfast as he mused over the past month and all they'd accomplished. Kate had finished eating before he had, running off to check their garden and fruit trees before starting in on her last wall. She just had to do the final touches on the mat for the wall, then would be done. Well before he completed the floor, but they were so close to the end, he could taste it. Then, they would have a house with a complete roof, complete floor, and seven half walls. Enough, indeed, to move into.

As he mulled it all over, the bamboo calendar they'd been using caught his eye. He'd not paid it much attention recently. Kate had taken over the task of cutting a mark for each new day; he'd been so busy with the house, and probably would have forgotten to keep track of things. He noticed that they were well into March, which surprised him. Time was flying by, though that was due in no small part to how much work they'd done. Suddenly, he leaned forward, peering at the calendar more closely. In two days, it would be the anniversary of their shipwreck. And two days later, their arrival on the island. Four months. It was hard to believe.

Inspired, he leapt up. He would finish the floor for their anniversary of the wreck. And perhaps he'd think of something really special to celebrate the anniversary of their arrival on the island, as well.

* * *

Kate had just finished cutting down another large breadfruit when she heard him calling her name. Stepping out of the trees, she yelled his name back, letting him know where she was. She'd left that morning to do some foraging. They'd both been working so hard on the house that there'd been little time to gather food. The stockpile they'd been relying on was now dangerously low, and with her last half-wall finished, she'd decided to start in on replenishing it.

Her work on the house wasn't done; she knew Rick wanted to get going on the upper, moveable portion of the walls, and he'd also asked for a screen that could be rolled down over each window if it were open. However, food was a priority, and she enjoyed getting away from all the weaving she'd been doing.

But now Rick was calling for her. She watched as he skipped towards her, looking for the entire world like a gamboling puppy. He was quite excited, that much was evident, even from yards away.

"Kate! Kate! You have to come!"

"Come where, Rick?"

"The house! I'm done with the floor. It's ready for us, finally."

Kate gaped at him. She'd finished her last wall yesterday morning, and thought he had another few days to go before being finished.

"It's done?"

He nodded, thrilled he had surprised her. "Wanna come see it?"

She nodded and took a step, before remembering what she had been doing.

"Could you help me get a few more breadfruit first? That way I don't have to come back out gathering for a few days."

He grabbed her knife and cut down four more ripe fruit in short order. Helping her carry her basket, he practically pranced his way back to the kitchen. Kate smiled, amused by his enthusiasm. He'd wanted her to come to the house immediately, but Kate insisted on putting the fruit up first. Something about the kitchen seemed—not right, but she didn't have time to think about it, as Rick grabbed her arm and practically dragged her to the clearing where the house stood.

It looked quite impressive from the outside. Snug, despite its lack of doors and upper walls. Anything beyond a tarp would look snug, at this point. Strong. Well built; she knew the labor they'd both poured into it. Sheltering. It looked like…home.

Rick had set the ladder next to the large opening where the door would go. There were no steps yet, and the floor was too high to simply step up to. He couldn't wait for Kate to climb the two rungs needed to be inside the house, but she'd paused to drink in the house properly from the outside. He bounded forward and jumped up into the entrance, not needing the ladder due to all the excess energy fizzing around his bloodstream.

Finally, finally, she was at the ladder. He reached down and gave her a hand to help pull her up into their house for the first time.

Kate stood, near tears as she looked around. It was done. Well, not done, but ready for them. She'd been around it as the construction had progressed, so it surprised her at how visceral a reaction that she had, seeing it completed. The roof soared above, dry and protective. The floor was strong and warm. The walls were sturdy. Empty, it would have evoked emotion, no doubt. But it wasn't empty. Rick had evidently finished the floor some time ago, then had moved their stuff inside. The mattresses were arranged on one side, clothes and linens piled nearby. Some of their other meager belongings were scattered throughout, waiting more furniture. He'd festooned some flowers around a few of the posts.

"What do you think?" he asked, unable to remain silent any longer, watching her drink it all in.

"It's marvelous," she sighed. And it was. Beyond expectation. "I can't believe you moved in our stuff."

"Everything but the pallets. They were too heavy. And I figured we'd be able to start on furniture soon, anyway."

She reluctantly turned from looking at the house until she was facing him entirely. "It's incredible, Rick. You should be so proud, you did a phenomenal job. It's hard to comprehend how much work you put into it."

He stared at her intently, making no effort to hide his love for her in his gaze or in his words. "We did it together, Kate," he stated, reaching out with both hands to cup her face. "It's built out of love, my love for you. Strong, to withstand whatever life throws at us. It's bound tightly, like we are to each other. It's permanent, nothing will bring it down easily. It's deep; it looks small from the outside, but once you come in you see it hides its depths. And it's transformative. We get to go from living under flimsy plastic to this. Just as my love for you has transformed me. It's all for you."

Leaning forward, he touched his lips to hers for the first time. And just as the house had taken root on the island, so did the love that they shared, as passion blossomed between them, matching the exotic flowers that watched the rapturous kiss.

* * *

**This chapter is dedicated to all the readers of this fic. It's the chapter most of you have been waiting for. I hope you've enjoyed it, and I thank each and every one of you for joining me on this journey. We are far from the end of this fic, but we now get to see them take on the world truly together. **


	33. Chapter 33: I Only Need You

**This chapter is dedicated to Ilovetoread09. I think I first really interacted with her on twitter, and discovered her mom and I are both in the same line of work. Which is pretty rare—there are fewer of us than active NFL players, in the U.S. Though we're not paid like them, alas. She's a very talented writer, with multiple fics under her belt, and very popular as well. I know she's busy with work and school, but it's always a pleasure to hear from her in any capacity. Thanks for all the support over time!**

* * *

March, 2000

The kiss came to an end, as these things must, but it left them both breathless and with pounding hearts. Rick dropped his hands to her back, pulling her closer to him, and rested his forehead on hers. They stood in this intimate embrace for what seemed like hours until he spoke.

"Do you realize what today is?"

"No," she quavered. She'd never in her life been kissed like that. It was hard to think of her name, let alone what the day was.

"Four months ago today I woke up with a splitting headache and discovered I'd been abandoned on a dying ship. I thought it was the worst day of my life; that it would be the _end_ of my life. And it _was_ the end of my life as I knew it, for I stumbled up the stairs to get some painkillers for my headache and discovered I wasn't alone. And that what I had thought was the worst day of my life was in reality the best day of my life. Because I had you. And I don't need or want anything or anyone else."

He lifted his head, and she tilted hers back slightly so she could see him. His stare made her knees weak and her skin tingled wherever their bodies were in contact.

"I love you, Kate Beckett. More than I ever thought was possible, I love you. But, if you don't want this, or aren't ready yet, please let me know."

Kate stared back at him. She loved him. There was no longer any doubt in her heart or in her mind. And, she was ready. To have him in her life as more than a friend, more than her fellow survivor. However, she was not someone who found it easy to express herself verbally. She tended to be someone who let her actions speak for her. This was such a moment. Raising her arms, she moved her hands around the back of his neck. Then pulled his head down into another time-altering kiss. She was ready and she wanted him. All of him.

When they broke apart again, it was Rick's turn to be left senseless. Kate returned the deep stare that he'd had earlier.

"Rick, I spent a year mourning for my mother. My heart, my soul, my very being was splintered apart the day she was killed. My dad might have helped me to keep it all together, but he disappeared from my life as well."

Rick reached down and grabbed one of her hands, squeezing it tight, as she continued her confession to him.

"I came here, to the South Pacific, looking for the answer as to how to be happy again. I couldn't look at anything beautiful in the world, like a flower, without thinking of my mom and the fact that she was no longer my life. I didn't think that I'd ever see in color again. Everything was grayscale. And then you came into it, and slowly with every sunrise I started noticing that there was more than just black, white and gray in the world."

She lifted the hand that was held within his; bringing it to her mouth, where she kissed his knuckles gently.

"I love you, Richard Rodgers. Thank you for loving me, and being patient with me. Thank you for helping me heal from my mother's death. And most of all thank you for bringing light back into a life that had become filled with darkness. Thank you for giving me your love."

With that, he bent down captured her lips again. And if they spent many long minutes lost in one another, just holding tight and kissing passionately, well, the flowers that watched over them would never tell.

* * *

Kate was the first to break away, both of them panting heavily and on the verge of letting their passion take over completely.

"Is something wrong, Kate?" Rick didn't understand why she was pulling back. She'd said she loved him, what was the issue?

She took a minute to collect herself, trying to control her respiration and calm her galloping pulse.

"No. Nothing's wrong, Rick. But we need to talk, before this goes any further. Why don't we take a few minutes, then meet in the kitchen and talk. Is that ok?"

She wanted a venue away from where their mattresses were. Someplace neutral. And they both needed some time to calm down. Kissing him was like sticking her finger in a live socket—it was electrifying, but it also fried her mental circuits. And the conversation they needed to have required some brain cells.

Arriving at the kitchen first, Kate finally realized why she'd thought it looked strange earlier—the tent they'd called home for so long was gone. All that was left were the pallets, as Rick had mentioned earlier. It was surreal to think that tonight she'd be sleeping under a snug roof, after four months of flimsy shelters. It was even more surreal to imagine that she might very well be sleeping _with_ Rick rather than next to him tonight. So much had changed with the completion of the house.

It was nearly time for dinner, so Kate decided to lose herself in the mindless steps of preparing their food. She knew the second he approached from behind; not due to hearing him, but rather sensing him. She'd always been hyperaware of his presence, even when she thought of him as a nuisance or irritation. Turning, she gave him a big smile to reassure him. He took the hint, and they spent the next fifteen minutes making small talk while he set the table and she finished cooking their meal.

Once they'd both been seated, Kate decided it was time to talk.

"Rick, I know how you feel about me. You've been telling me for nearly since the moment we got to the island. And I've realized that I feel the same about you. I can't imagine my life without you. You make everything about the world seem like a better place. But where do we go from here? I want to talk about this before we're both in something so deep that we can't see straight anymore."

Rick reached across the table and grasped her free hand with his. She was adorably serious and worried about the conversation, afraid he might object to talking things through. But he was a man of words, and he knew that they had some issues to resolve before they jumped in with both feet. Living alone on an island simultaneously simplified things and made them much more complicated.

"I agree," he said, surprising her, "we do need to talk. Because this is far too important for us to mess up. Fortunately, we're stuck with each other. If we have a problem or misunderstanding, we're going to have to deal with it. But, it makes it hard as well. There's no getting away from the other, not easily."

"Ok, let's start with that. I'm more introverted than you. I need time alone sometimes to process things. But, I promise to come to you once I do."

"Deal, Kate. And I tend to be a bit smothering at times. If you want me to leave you alone to think, just tell me. I won't take it personally. Or at least I'll try not to do so."

"So, tell me where we're going. What do you want out of this relationship, Rick?"

"That's an easy answer, Kate. I want everything. If I had white paint, I'd put up a picket fence and paint it. I want to be with you for the rest of my life, and I hope you feel the same."

Kate swallowed heavily, fighting back tears. She'd hoped, prayed, this would be his answer. And had never expected it to come so naturally, without hesitation, from his lips.

"That's—that's what I want too." She smiled at him as he picked her hand up and brought it to his mouth for a gentle kiss. "So, if we're rescued tomorrow…?"

"If we're rescued tomorrow, Kate, I'll have you standing next to me in the first chapel I can find, pledging my life to you forever. That is if you'll have me?"

She nodded, this time not able to keep a few of the tears from escaping and trailing down her cheeks. Wiping them off with the hand not currently held in Rick's grasp, she gave a small chuckle. "Look at us. No one would have ever guessed four months ago that we'd be here."

Rick narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "If I had to guess, I'll bet I know of one person who would be shitting himself if he knew that we not only survived the shipwreck and his sabotage, but are doing quite well for ourselves."

Kate shuddered, and Rick was immediately apologetic for reminding her of Grollet. She took her hand back and they spent a few minutes in silence, finishing their meal and just thinking about how much life had changed since then.

Kate started to stand up and get their dishes, but Rick shooed her back down. "You cooked, I'll get the dishes. Just sit."

He'd rinsed them in the bucket of water she'd fetched before dinner, and was drying them when she asked the question that had been on his mind for longer than was comfortable—in many ways.

"Rick, I know that you want a physical relationship with me." Rick nearly dropped the precious dish. Breathing in deeply to calm himself, he gently set it down before turning back to her.

"Yes. Is that a question?" he wondered. He sure hoped not.

"No, not really. I want one too, but I'm worried."

"Is this about my stupid behavior when I was younger? Because I'm pretty sure that I often was too drunk or stoned to actually do anything. And I've been tested multiple times. I've never had an STD; I was very careful to use condoms." He'd long worried his playboy past would bite him in the ass when it came time to establish a real relationship. Meredith hadn't cared; once he'd caught her in bed with her director, he understood why.

"No, I know you're not a virgin. And, well, I'm not either," she said, almost shyly. He nodded. He hadn't expected her to be. She was gorgeous, and of age. "Though I've not slept around, I did go through a bit of a wild child stage as a teenager. Did some things I'm not proud of, either."

"It's ok; I know we both have pasts. But we're together now, that's all that matters."

"You said you were careful to use a condom. But we don't have any here. No birth control of any kind. What if I get pregnant?"

Rick felt like the air had been knocked out of him. He'd never even thought about it. Staggering over to his stool, he sat down, feeling numb. As his thoughts whirled, he looked up to see the anxiety and fear on Kate's face. Seeing her look so terrified suddenly snapped things into place for him.

"Kate, love," he said, reaching for her again, "there is nothing I would like more than to have a child with you. I love you so much, how could I not be thrilled to see you heavy with my child, see the physical result of our love? A little girl that looked just like you? It would be heaven."

Kate still appeared unsure. "But, Rick, we're all alone here. I know I'm young and strong, but what if something goes wrong? There's no way to get help. Our baby might die. I might die. I know it used to happen."

"This may not offer much comfort, but I helped Hina around the islands for ten months. One of her most sought after jobs was delivering babies. I got to help with about twelve, and I can tell you it was an incredible experience. I can't imagine what it would be like to see you give birth to our baby. But you're right, we are stuck here for who knows how long? No matter how much I might like to think about it, I can't keep you barefoot and pregnant for the entire time."

Kate laughed, stretching her foot under the table to rub his leg. "No, just barefoot, hopefully," she chuckled. Neither of them wore shoes anymore, unless they were going to walk along the reef out by the ocean.

"There are ways to prevent pregnancy, other than the pill and condoms," he murmured, distracted by her foot. It was doing wicked things to his concentration.

Realizing his problem, Kate took her foot back and gave him a quizzical look. "Like what?"

"Well, lots of Catholic families use the rhythm method."

"Yes, and I know of lots of traditional Catholic families that have, like fourteen kids. Not sure that's a good option."

"Good, I'm glad you think so, because I'm gonna have a hard time keeping my hands off you once we take this next step," he said with a predatory look that made a wave of heat flash through her lower abdomen.

"Well then, you'd better be finding a twenty four hour pharmacy or come up with some better options than one that still results in pregnancy."

"Well, Kate, it just so happens that we have two options, both much superior to the rhythm method. Well, only one is available now, but the other will be ready in a few months."

"And those are?"

"So, the most effective way is to use papaya seeds. This is a solution for men. Hina taught me that if a male chews up a teaspoon or two of papaya seeds daily for three months, the chances of pregnancy are nearly zero. It's been used widely in the islands with much success. The only problem is we have no ripe papayas yet, though the trees are growing very rapidly. And once they are ripe, it'll be another three months before I'm safe."

"But you'll still be fertile later on?"

"Oh, yeah. You just stop eating the seeds and fertility is restored in a month or two."

"Well, that sounds pretty good, but how will we make it until then?"

"Ah, well that my love, is where the other solution comes in. It's not quite as effective as papaya seeds, but it is very good. And we have access to it right now." He nearly growled the last of the sentence, eyes darkening as he looked a her like a predator looks at prey.

Kate audibly gulped, then gave a wan smile. It was getting very warm under the pergola, even though the sun was going down and the fire dying in the fire pit. Though a new fire had ignited, if she were to believe the eruptions declaring themselves along her skin.

"Just what is this readily available method?" she asked, voice shaking slightly.

He smiled, lots of teeth showing. Still looking like he wanted to eat her up. Perhaps that was not untrue. "Sea sponges."

"Sea—sea sponges?"

"Yep, the very ones we went gathering a while ago for your period. They can be used as a barrier method."

"Oh," she whispered weakly.

He sat up a bit more. "You do still have some, don't you?" He was fully prepared to launch the canoe and go after some immediately. Never mind the fact that it was full night and god only knew what the tide was currently.

"Yeah, yeah I do." she said faintly. She hadn't imagined all of her concerns would be laid to rest so easily. It was….exciting. And scary. And. Exciting. She suddenly stood, excusing herself for a minute. Rick watched her go with concern.

He thought her reluctance meant that she needed some time to adjust to this new aspect of their relationship. Though he was ready—more than ready—to do so, he wanted beyond anything for Kate to be comfortable. So, he decided it was time to discuss other, less…charged…topics when she returned five minutes later.

"Kate, are there any other issues or concerns about the two of us you want to discuss?"

She shook her head faintly. They'd resolved…everything. That she could think of. Not that she could really think, right now. But Rick was still talking. As usual. Shaking her head, she tried to pay attention to what he was saying.

"So, we might take a day or two to relax, but then we need to finish the house." In reality, he was hoping the days of leisure he was proposing would be occupied in…other…ways. "I need to make a set of stairs for the entrance, and get the doors in. I was hoping you'd want to finish off the windows."

She nodded, half listening.

"That's why I put the beds up near the center of the house; as far away from the open windows as possible. In case it rains and there's some water that gets in. Once the windows are done, you could do the screens we talked about. And I'd like to start making some furniture, too, though I think it'll be important to finish the path to the outhouse."

Kate was paying more attention, now. "It won't take me long to do the windows. Just more weaving. I gathered so many leaves, that I don't even need to harvest any. It's pretty straight forward work."

"Ok, do you want to build the frames for them too? I could throw one or two together pretty quickly."

"Sure, that way I could just start weaving, if you let me know how wide to make it."

"I'll do it first thing in the morning. Have you thought about what kind of furniture you want in the house?"

"Well, some chairs, obviously. Maybe a couch? And we need lots of shelves. Both here in the kitchen and in the house. Oh, and I was thinking it would be awesome to have a table and chairs in the house. There's plenty of room, and it would be nice to have someplace that is out of the weather."

Rick looked around the pergola. "You know, I said I'd thatch the roof of the kitchen, but maybe I should do the whole structure. It gets old having to dry off the stools every day."

"Guess we should add it to the list," Kate teased.

"True. It seems to never get shorter. But I think you missed a piece of furniture," he teased back. He didn't know if she'd ignored it on purpose or not.

She looked at him, eyes burning. She'd known. "Bed?"

He nodded, mouth suddenly dry. "Or beds? I don't want to assume."

"I think one will be enough, Rick. When you're in trouble, you can come out here and sleep on a pallet. Like old times."

He laughed. "Maybe I should build a doghouse so I can crawl in there periodically."

His words were punctuated by a sudden gust of wind that carried a few drops of rain with it. The nightly rain was coming in early. Rick stood, reaching for her hand, and they raced the storm to their new house. Arriving at the house, Rick jumped up into the doorway once more, then reached down and picked Kate up as if she weighed nothing. They moved inside, laughing, as the storm suddenly broke, sending a deluge as if it were angry they had escaped its wrath.

Kate stood, safe and dry, watching the water pour down from the sky. Listening to it hit the thatch roof above sounded quite different than the deafening thunder of it rattling on a plastic tarp that sat a few inches from your ear. This was so much softer, almost pleasant. And, without leaks.

She felt Rick's arms wrap around her as he stood behind her. She leaned into his body, letting him support her, and they watched the rain together, his chin resting on the top of her head.

"It's nice to be in here. Dry and warm," she whispered to him.

"Yes, way better than the tarps. They served their purpose, but this is way better."

She shivered as the vibrations of his voice traveled through her, setting off ripples through her blood in its wake.

"You ok?" he asked, rubbing her bare arms with his hands. This made her shiver more, until she couldn't think of anything other than spinning around and reaching for his head to pull him down to the kiss that she was dying for.

If any rain had been able to make it to where they stood, kissing passionately, it would have turned to steam on contact with Kate's skin. She felt like she was on fire anywhere his fingers touched her. And they were roaming all over.

He broke away, briefly and panted "Kate? We're ok?"

She nodded, gasping for air. She'd prepared earlier. Hoping this would happen. Taking his hand, she led him to where he'd placed the mattresses. He hadn't wanted to assume anything, so they were a few feet apart. And they remained that way, for only one was needed.

* * *

Rick's hope for little work being done the next day became a reality. They spent most of their time exploring each other, learning the likes and dislikes of their partner. The only time they left their bed was for to eat and necessary visits to the bathroom.

Lying languidly with Kate draped over him late in the morning, Rick couldn't help but wear a large smile. He'd never been happier in his life. No previous sexual encounter came anywhere near what he'd had with Kate. It was like comparing a solar flare to a supernova. He thought some of the difference was due to how compatible they were, but the biggest difference was how much he loved her. Being with her felt like they linked their hearts and souls, which led to the most intimate experience he could ever imagine.

"You awake?" he murmured to her, fingers stroking her naked back in leisurely patterns.

"Umm," was the only response he received. He knew she was as satisfied as he was, but where Kate was content to just lie in his arms and attempt to breathe, Rick needed to talk.

"Do you have any aunts or uncles?" Kate didn't move, didn't make a sound. "Kate? Did you hear me?"

Kate lifted her head off his chest so she could look in his eyes. "You want to talk about my relatives after we just did that? And, seriously, how is it that you can even think? I don't have any brain cells left, Rick."

He gave her a quick kiss for her adorable look of consternation. He loved all her looks, and was more than willing to continue doing strange things in order to earn them.

"Well, I was thinking. Here we are in this relationship now, and while I know a lot about you and what makes you tick, I don't know the little details, like relatives. If we were in the States, I'd probably meet them at a family dinner, or be invited to cousin Mabel's wedding as your plus one. But there's no way to do that here, so we have to think of things to tell each other. I want to know everything about you, Kate Beckett. Like, is that your real name? Or is Kate short for something?"

Kate rolled her eyes; a habit she employed frequently around him. "My name is Katherine Houghton Beckett. My parents were huge fans of Katherine Hepburn, and Houghton is her middle name."

"I think I told you my name, when we were out on the beach and I told you my story? My full name is Richard Alexander Rodgers. But I used Richard Edgar Castle for my pen name. Edgar is for Poe. Mom named me Alexander after her grandfather. He was pretty important to her, growing up."

"Did you meet him?"

"No, he'd died years before I was born." Rick continued to wax eloquent on the subject of relatives, having obtained the information he was really after. He thought he'd been pretty smooth in the way he'd asked, and he was fairly confident she hadn't noticed. Now he knew everything he needed to know, had everything he needed, and was secure about what would happen. His plan had come together nicely, and he couldn't wait until the next day when he'd spring it on her.

* * *

**Yes, papaya seeds. They lead to azoospermia, and are a very effective means of birth control. I honestly didn't know about them until I started writing this fic and was faced with needing a reliable method of birth control. I had no interest in having 10 Caskett babies at their rescue. And we all know there is no way they could have gone ten years without touching each other.**

**Sea sponges are also used as a barrier method. So, is everyone happy with the fact that they're together? Without any other distractions or other people, I didn't think it would drag out, unlike canon. Completely different circumstances.**

**Feel free to share your thoughts.**


	34. Chapter 34: The Rest of Our Days

**This chapter is dedicated to ibexdracula. Another dedicated reader and reviewer, it was also her birthday yesterday. This chapter is, hopefully, the ultimate birthday present for all Castle lovers. Happy Birthday!**

**Let the flails begin...**

* * *

March, 2000

Kate was in a daze. It had been two days since the house had been finished, they'd moved in, and she'd entered into a full relationship with Rick. Smiling absently at the thought of him, she went about her chores without thinking. Fortunately, they were so routine at this point that she didn't need to think about what she was doing.

They'd spent the whole previous day just being with each other. Most of it spent in bed, though not just making love. Rick's proclivity to talk hadn't been repressed, no matter how mind blowing the sex had been. And, honestly, she'd learned some interesting tidbits about him and his family. It made her feel closer than ever to him. He knew her secrets, she knew his. Of course, the fact that there was no one else on the island with them meant they couldn't have any true secrets together from the rest of the world. Which detracted slightly from the feeling of intimacy, but only a little.

Kate still couldn't wrap her mind around how incredibly hot their physical relationship had proven to be. As she'd told Rick, she was no virgin. However, nothing she'd ever done before had prepared her for the unimaginable pleasure he'd shown her was possible. Perhaps the difference was that she was in love with this man, wholly and completely. That had never been the case with her other partners, not even close. Or that he cared about whether or not she got as much out of the experience as he did. He was not selfish, there was no doubt about that. A shudder ran through her as she remembered just how unselfish he could be. It had been—educational.

This morning had dawned brightly, finding them still wrapped around each other after another night of pure bliss. Kate had been awakened, not by the light in the sky, or the birds singing, but rather by the wonderful feeling of his lips caressing her neck. Thinking there was little better in the world than being woken up by the man she loved, she responded enthusiastically.

As it turned out, Rick had been trying to wake her up, but not for another round. He had some plans for the day, though he refused to let her know what they were. However, he'd been distracted enough by her response that he didn't get up to work on his plans until an hour after he'd been expecting to. Which was more than fine with Kate. And Rick with too, to be honest.

* * *

Rick paddled around the lake slowly, looking for a likely spot. He'd not tried fishing in the lake, yet. No time, all his efforts centered on building their life and surviving their exile. Today, however, was different. He'd already added a new leaf to the story of his life with Kate. Tonight he planned to start writing a whole new book. But, he wanted things to be special. And that started with a very special meal. So, he was fishing. And hoping the fates would smile on him, today of all days, and send him success quickly so he might be with his love once again.

And perhaps it was that the fish in the lake were unfamiliar with this particular form of predator. Or, that Rick was a better fisherman than he'd ever supposed. Maybe it was that the gods above were true romantics. Whatever the reason, in short order he had caught two good sized fish and paddled back to Pereora.

He found Kate just outside of the kitchen, weeding their little garden. The plants continued to thrive, and neither could wait until they had a little more variety to their diet.

Walking up behind her, he used his free hand to caress her neck as she knelt next to a tomato plant. Moaning slightly, she looked up at him and smiled. His heart nearly gave out at the sight. That smile nearly killed him every time.

"Hey, what have you been doing?" she asked, still smiling, until she caught sight of the fish hanging from a short line in his other hand. "Wow, what are those for?"

"Give me ten minutes to get them cleaned, then can we talk real quick?" he beseeched. Seeing her nod, he leaned down and kissed the top of her head, then strode off to dress the fish.

Once finished cleaning the fillets, he went back to the kitchen. Kate was sitting at a stool, weaving some leaves for the windows they were supposed to be working on. They'd been a little distracted.

Rick got out one of their bowls and added some lime and coconut milk to it, then put the fish in. It wouldn't keep long, but he wanted it to marinate while he talked to Kate. Then he planned to add it to a pot of taro corms, which were quite starchy. More coconut milk and some taro leaves would make a tasty fish stew that would simmer on the fire until dinner time.

He washed up, then walked over and moved his stool to the same side of the table as hers. He sat down, looking at her seriously, and her hands stilled.

"Kate, I know I've told you and showed you how much I love you. The last day and a half, being with you, has been the most incredible experience of my life."

"For me too, Rick," she whispered. He was acting nervous, strange. She had no idea what was happening and wasn't sure she wanted to know.

"Do you know what today is?"

She shook her head. She hadn't been able to think about much of anything, all thanks to him.

"Today marks the day that we arrived on this island four months ago. Lost, scared, afraid of what would happen. Together, we've managed to survive, carved a life out of the jungle. I don't know what would have happened to me if you hadn't been here with me."

Kate nodded. She felt the same way, and had told him as much over the course of the last few days.

"You asked me what I would do if we were rescued suddenly. And I told you that I'd rush you to the nearest chapel. But I got to thinking about that."

Kate froze. Did he not want her now that she'd slept with him? This was all very odd, and she didn't know what to think about his actions or his manner.

Rick saw her stiffen and knew he'd messed up his carefully rehearsed speech. He'd crafted it while sitting in the canoe, alone with his thoughts. It had been a masterpiece: beautiful, moving, and passionate. But the sight of her made him tongue tied, especially on an occasion like this. Abandoning the rest of whatever words he thought he ought to call on, he slid off the stool to kneel before her. Clutching her hands to his, he looked up and offered her his heart lock, stock and barrel.

"I'm asking you, Katherine Houghton Beckett, will you marry me?"

He reached into the little pocket of his shirt and fished out a wooden ring he'd made for her from candlenut wood. It was just a simple circle, polished and rubbed with candlenut oil until it gleamed. He had no idea if it would fit, but figured it was unlikely that she'd wear it on her finger, anyway. It simply wouldn't be practical with all the manual labor they both had to perform. Instead, he'd taken some coconut fiber and twisted a fine cord for her to wear it around her neck. He'd added two small iridescent shells he'd found while crab hunting on the beach to either side of where it would hang.

Kate was incredulous. A marriage proposal was not what she'd been expecting, but recalling his statements from a few days ago about marrying her once they were rescued, she realized that there was nothing more than this she wanted.

Standing, she pulled him up with her. "Yes, Richard Alexander Rodgers, I will marry you." He gathered her in for a long kiss that ended all too soon.

She took the ring from his hands. "It's beautiful, Rick. When did you do this?"

"I've been working on it for a few weeks. Does it fit?"

She gave it back to him, then offered her left hand. He slipped it on her ring finger; it was slightly loose, but not so much that it would easily fall off.

"I made you this, too." He showed her the cord, explaining his idea for her to wear it around her neck. Kate burst into tears, to Rick's dismay.

"What is it, Kate? Did I say something wrong?"

"No, no, it's not you. It's me. My dad gave me my mom's wedding ring, after she died. I used to wear it on a chain around my neck all the time. It made me feel closer to her. But I left it at home when I came on this trip. I was afraid I might get mugged or lose it somehow in all the travels."

"I'm sorry. It was just an idea, as I was afraid you'll get it hung on something while you work."

"No, Rick, it's perfect. I want to wear it around my neck. It's closest to my heart there."

He smiled at her, then gave her another breathless kiss. Separating, Kate sat down on her stool, still holding his hand. Rick sat down next to her and she looked at him quizzically.

"So, what brought this all on? Why today of all days?" she asked, smiling at him to let him know she was just curious, not upset.

"Well, it was like I said, I found myself wishing more than anything that we would be rescued soon, just so I could marry you. I knew I wanted to be with you forever, and I was a little bitter that we're stuck here without any means of marrying. But, then I suddenly had a thought. A marriage in the real world is an official document, sure, but the ceremony itself is simply a pledge before God and witnesses that you love the person next to you, and want to spend the rest of your life with them."

Kate marveled at how much thought he'd been putting into the subject. She would have never guessed that he'd been thinking so long and hard about marrying her. It made her heart lurch a little, and she found that she loved him even more; she hadn't thought it possible.

"So, I thought '_why wait'_? It's our pledge to each other; we don't need witnesses for that. And who knows when we'll be rescued? It might be months. I already can't imagine you not in my life, and I thought if we had some sort of ceremony, here, together, it would be a fitting way to start our life as true partners in every sense of the word."

"And since we arrived here four months ago today, you thought it was a good way to celebrate that event, as well?" she asked.

"Yes. What do you think?"

"I love the idea, honestly, Rick. But what kind of ceremony will we have?"

He gave her a quick kiss for agreeing to the plan before answering her. "I went and caught the fish so we could have a special dinner. I thought after dinner we'd go down to the lakeshore, after the moonrise, and exchange vows there, under the watchful eye of the moon and the stars."

"Oh, that sounds so romantic. I wish I had a ring to give to you."

Rick gave her an apologetic look, then reached into his pocket and brought out another ring. "I made this first; it was to be yours, but I realized too late that it was far too big. It actually fits me pretty well, so I finished it. I made a cord for me to wear it around my neck too."

Kate smiled at him, and his heart melted. They kissed, hands roving over the other, until Rick had to draw back. "I'm going to go do a few preparations for tonight. I'll see you at dinner?"

Nodding, Kate started thinking about the rest of her day. They didn't need any more fruit, so now that her weeding was done the only job she would have worked on was the weaving. She decided to finish it, which only took another hour or so. Wandering back to the house, she set the mat down on the floor, then walked to her pile of clothing.

She'd brought mostly t-shirts, shorts and jeans, but there was one sundress that she'd packed in case she went out for a nice meal or was invited somewhere that required more than just tourist casual. She never had worn it, at any point in her travels. Pulling it out, she looked it over. It was badly wrinkled, but there was no helping that. They had neither iron nor any need to worry about whether a t-shirt was rumpled. The dress was a deep purple in color, with two thin straps that met behind her neck. The bodice was gathered, then fell in a sheath to her calves. It would do; it was really her only option. But she thought it was not inappropriate for a beach wedding.

Taking it, she then walked towards the waterfall, carrying her dress, her hairbrush, and a basket. She walked the long way, along the tree line, specifically searching out ti leaves and flowers as she went, placing them in the basket when she found ones she liked. She also sought a patch of the shampoo plant that grew near the waterfall. It would feel wonderful to wash her hair under the spray of the waterfall. Grinning at the thought of Rick's face when he saw that evening, she began her preparations for her wedding.

* * *

Rick spent his afternoon fashioning a bamboo arbor on the beach. He'd come up with the idea the day before, and was able to build it quite rapidly. It was a simple structure, just four poles joined in a roughly square shape at the top by cross poles. However, he made it more festive by festooning various flowering vines over it, along with some pretty hibiscus flowers he roughly braided into the vines. All in all, it looked spectacular. He hoped Kate would agree.

He spent the last hour before dinner bathing in the lake. He had no clothes that even approached formal wear, but he did put on his nicest pair of khaki shorts and the single button down shirt he owned. It was white, and while a bit stained in a few places he thought it looked better than any of the t-shirts he usually wore.

Glancing at the sun, he saw it was time to head to the kitchen. Kate wasn't there yet, so he began cutting up some fruit for their 'dessert'. Their diet was obviously limited; there would be no cake or unique treat on this wedding night. But, he wanted to have something sweet for his bride-to-be on her special night.

Hearing the crunch of approaching footsteps, he looked up and nearly dropped his knife. Kate was walking towards him from the beach, carrying a basket of flowers. She was wearing a dress—a dress!—and her hair appeared freshly washed. A few strands were blowing away from her head in the slight breeze, and his vision of an island goddess returned powerfully to mind. Gulping, he closed his eyes and slowly counted to ten, trying to control himself.

"Are you ok?" she teased, seeing him clutching the knife with white knuckles and eyes closed.

He slowly opened his eyes and drank her in. "I will be. You look incredible. Where did you even find a dress?" His voice rose in tone, nearly a squeak at the end.

"I had packed one for the trip, but never found an event where I felt like wearing it. Until now."

"Well, I heartily approve," he rasped, still having trouble controlling himself.

"I saw you built an arbor by the beach. It looks marvelous. I can't wait until the sun goes down."

"Me either," he said, staring hungrily at her. She had a feeling they weren't talking about the same thing. Taking a step backwards, she tried to decrease the tension of the moment. "Something smells great. What can I do to help?"

Rick stared for a minute longer, then shook his head. "Nothing. Just have a seat, milady." Turning back to his task at hand, he quickly finished up the fruit, then dished up some of the stew for her.

"For your dining pleasure tonight, the kitchen is featuring an entrée of fish stew with taro, mashed breadfruit and stewed taro leaves," he said as he placed her bowl in front of her with a flourish. "Your choice of beverage is water or water. Which do you prefer?"

Kate's laugh filled the space, making Rick grin from ear to ear. He loved hearing her laugh, and loved that he was responsible for her joy.

"I'll try the water, good sir."

"Excellent choice, madam."

He placed her water on the table, then fixed his own bowl. Joining her, he asked about her afternoon.

"I went to the waterfall. It felt so wonderful, though a hot shower would have been even better. I made us both some leis and gathered some flowers to wear in my hair and to hold as a bouquet."

Rick grinned at her. "You're incredible, you know that? In Tahiti, they call them 'hei' instead of 'lei'. But it's the same concept. They are given with love."

"Well, there's no lack there. Do you have the rings?"

He nodded, then reached in his pocket and gave her his ring and the cord he'd use to wear it with. She started to place them in the basket, then thought better of it.

"Do you mind holding onto it? I don't have any pockets and I'm afraid it'll get lost in the basket."

Reaching over to take them back, he nodded, "I'll be the ring bearer, no problem."

Kate gave him a tight smile. "I know this will be an incredible experience, and I can't wait to marry you, but I wish my mom was here to see me get married."

Rick reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze before interlacing their fingers. "I know you do. But I think she'll be there with you on that beach tonight, I really do. She's still looking after you, Kate. Don't ever imagine she's not."

Kate wiped her tears away with her free hand and gave a few sniffs before being able to respond. She didn't want to feel sad tonight of all nights, but there were times that she missed her mother fiercely, and this was one of those times.

"It's ok to miss her, Kate. But I think she's really happy for you."

"I think you're right. I just wish I could talk to her one more time, tell her how much in love I am with you. Have her give me one last kiss."

Rick just squeezed her hand tighter and they sat there thinking about all the people in their lives that they missed. Glancing at the sky a few minutes later, Rick saw the sun was about to set.

"Are you ready to head to the beach?"

Roused from her reflections, Kate nodded absently. Rick stood, walked over to her side, bent down and gave her a deep kiss. When he pulled back, Kate looked up at him, eyes clearer.

"What was that for?" she wondered.

"To bring you back to the present. It's time to go get married, Kate Beckett. And while we both have many people in our lives that we wish we could share this moment with, the fact is they aren't here. It's just you and me. Are you ready to do this?"

Kate smiled at him. "Thank you, Rick. And, yes, I'm ready." Standing, she reached in the basket and withdrew a hei made entirely of ti leaves. Draping it over his shoulders, she gave him a shy smile.

"It's beautiful, Kate. Thank you."

Reaching back into the basket, she placed a hei made of ti leaves and plumeria around her neck, then a small garland of ti leaves and hibiscus in her hair. Finally, she took the bouquet, which was made up of hibiscus, more plumeria and a few other flowers of various colors.

"God, you look stunning," Rick exclaimed. He couldn't believe this gorgeous creature was willing to marry him. It was a dream that he never wanted to wake from.

"You look very handsome, yourself. Shall we?"

Rick held out his arm, and they slowly walked down to the beach and the waiting arbor. They stood, arm in arm and watched as the sky was swathed in pinks, reds and golds. The light faded and was soon replaced by the soft glow of the moon and the twinkle of the stars. Moving under the arbor, Rick let go of her arm and turned to face her.

He reached down and grasped both of her hands in his. "Ready?"

She nodded.

Rick took a deep breath. "Is it ok if I go first?"

Kate just laughed and nodded again. "It's fine, Rick."

"Ok." He stood still, looking deeply into her eyes. "Kate, the first time I laid eyes on you, I was struck dumb with your beauty. You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen. And I soon learned that you were far more complex than any woman I have ever met, as well. You are fierce intellect, unbridled passion, unwavering loyalty and extreme empathy. Your beauty radiates from the inside out. I love you more than I ever thought possible, and I vow beneath the heavens above that I, Richard Alexander Rodgers, will love, honor and cherish you for the rest of time."

Kate beamed at him, her smile far brighter than the meager light provided by the moon and the stars. Squeezing his hands in turn, she raised one to her lips for a quick kiss before she spoke.

"Rick, until I met you I didn't think that I'd ever love again. The people I loved the most in my life were both taken from me. I swore I'd never be hurt by anyone like that ever again, and I hid behind my curtain of grief so that no one could find me. What I didn't realize is that by holding myself apart meant that _I_ stopped living as well. It wasn't until I met you that I found that I wanted to live. You brought the color and the sunlight back into my world, and I soon fell in love with you, body, mind and soul. You make me a better person, the person I want to be. I can't imagine not having you in my life. And here beneath the stars and the moon to bear witness, I vow that I, Katherine Houghton Beckett will love, honor and cherish you for as long as I live."

Rick dropped her hand to get the rings out, handing his to her. He then took her left hand and placed her ring on her finger. "With this ring, I thee wed Katherine Beckett," he declared, raising her hand to his lips and kissing the ring as it rested in its place.

Kate repeated the same vow with his ring. They stood, drinking each other in under the silvery light of the moon.

"I now declare us man and wife," Rick whispered, voice husky with emotion. He then bent down and kissed his wife; slowly at first, then with increasing passion. She tasted of the sun, the spray of the waterfall, the crushed petals of the flowers. She tasted of twinkling starlight and the silver of the moon. She tasted of hope, heat, and love. He knew he'd never tire of kissing her. And the memories of her kisses would someday get him through impossibly lonely nights without her.

* * *

**Pictures of the heis, the arbor and the dress will be on Tumblr.**

**So, how'd you like that little ceremony? It underwent extensive re-writes, thanks to Garrae, because I'm such a shipper I had shooting stars and all kinds of ludicrously romantic stuff happening. I like how it turned out much better. And don't all our hearts pitter patter a little faster at the thought of this wedding? Though any ending with an intact bride and groom is better than what we got at the end of the season...**


	35. Chapter 35: Here Comes Martha

**This chapter is dedicated to Garrae. Yes, I know the first chapter was as well, but to be honest we've both had pretty crappy days today, and I think a little shoutout will, hopefully, make the day a bit better. I mentioned earlier how lucky I was to have found an author as accomplished as Garrae to read my stuff. However, even more than that, is that I've found a friend. Just an incredibly intelligent, awesome person that I truly appreciate every day. Thank you so much for everything that you've done for me! I hope your day is going better and that you know how much I value your opinion, advice, and friendship!**

**So, on to the story. I think this may be the best chapter that I've ever written; Garrae and Lou both agreed with that assessment. I hope you guys like it.**

* * *

April, 2010

Martha snapped the laptop closed, tears streaming from her eyes. He had married Katie, and the description he'd written was romantic, touching, and simply…beautiful. How she regretted that she'd not been able to be there, though reading about it helped make her feel a part of the moment.

Dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief, she stared absently out the window of the plane. She didn't know this Richard, this man who had rescued the damsel in distress and then proved his worth over and over as they struggled to survive in a wilderness with few modern tools. She had never seen the tough, confident man portrayed in these chapters.

However, even more of a stranger to her, was this man who'd fallen in love with Katie Beckett, then waited for her to do the same. The romantic side of Martha cheered the couple on; with all they'd been through, they deserved happiness together. She prayed with all her might that Katie was still safe and sound on the island where Richard had last seen her. Prayed they'd be reunited, that their love story would continue.

The maternal side of her was nervous, however. This Richard was unknown to her. Would he still accept her advice? Turn to her to have her help salve his hurts, soothe his pain? Afaitu had told her Richard was focused on finding Katie; that nothing else mattered. Where did that put Martha? What kind of relationship would she have with a son she'd thought dead for ten years?

An announcement overhead startled her out of her reverie. They were beginning their descent into Papeete. Opening the laptop once more, she deleted the file with Richard's story, as she'd been taught to do. Jim had installed a program for her that would remove it permanently. They were all paranoid that it would fall into the wrong hands, so were trying to take any step necessary to prevent it from happening. She was glad she'd been able to finish reading the entire story that Richard had written so far. Perhaps he'd tell her the rest in person?

Within a half hour they were making their final approach. The island looked like an oasis in a sea of blue. However, Martha had no fond memories of her previous visits here; they had been desperate dashes trying to find any trace of her missing son, until she'd simply let others convince her he was gone. It was easier than imagining him lost somewhere, hurt.

Her next instructions were clear in her head. It was very early in the morning when they landed. The overnight flight was chosen purposefully so that there would be little time on the part of Grollet and his henchmen to react to her presence. The other flight from LAX arrived at night, which would have forced Martha and Afaitu to wait for hours before being able to do anything. The redeye was best for their schedule, arriving at almost 5 am Tahiti time.

So, the redeye it was. She'd had a long layover in LA anyway, and had rested a bit then. She was used to strange hours; the life of an actress, whether on stage or film, often had her up all night. A surge of adrenaline raced through her when they touched down. She was on the same soil as her son, after so many years. It was a surreal feeling.

She was able to make it through customs quickly; deplaning from first class gives you an advantage over the more numerous passengers in coach. Additionally, first class baggage is given priority during unloading, so she was out of the airport and in a cab within forty minutes. The sun was just coming up as they pulled up to the Tahiti Nui Hotel. It was about six kilometers from the prison, and located in the heart of Papeete.

Checking into her suite so early wasn't an issue; Jim and Celeste had made her arrangements so that their plan would be able to go off without a hitch—hopefully. She unpacked a few items, then placed her laptop and passport in the large electronic safe that came with the room. Glancing at her watch she saw they were ahead of schedule. Deciding to shower and freshen up, she was soon dressed in fresh clothes-bright and vivacious like her personality-and anxious to get on with the next phase of the plan.

At precisely 9:30 in the morning, Martha Rodgers made her way to the lobby, loudly discussing her desire for a day of shopping. Obtaining recommendations for chic shops and boutiques from the concierge, she meandered her way out onto the main street carrying a large canvas tote. She hadn't noticed anyone following her, but their plan would hopefully ensure that if there _were_ clandestine agents following her, they would soon lose her in the crowds.

Martha aimlessly wandered from shop to shop, seemingly at random. Bright red hair, neon clothes, it would be hard to miss her. About half an hour after she'd begun shopping, she entered a lovely clothing store. Quickly picking out some truly eye catching garb, she requested a changing room and was shown to the back.

Once alone, she pulled out a hat, a very neutral and demure skirt, and a button up blouse from her tote. Changing in a flash, she stuffed her garish clothes back in the tote and made sure her hair was completely covered by the hat. She then quietly exited the changing room, but instead of heading back to the front, she moved to a door in the back wall of the store. It emptied into an alley, which she hurried along until it spilled back out onto a busy street full of shops and restaurants. Relieved that she'd managed to find the right clothing store and pull that part of the plan together, she let out a sigh and strolled along with the other tourists.

She didn't see the man in a nondescript suit waiting outside of the store she'd changed in. Didn't see him start to look at his watch with increasing urgency after she'd been out of sight for fifteen minutes. And she certainly never saw him making a frantic call after he finally entered the store and found her missing twenty minutes after she'd entered it. She was well away by then, and would not be sighted by any of the men tasked with finding her until much, much later that day. And by then it would be far too late for them to do anything.

* * *

Afaitu waited nervously in his car. So much depended on Martha. He had every confidence in her acting ability. It was just that so much could go wrong, and they'd all agreed that it was too dangerous for her to contact him once she landed. She'd have called Jim to let him know she was safe at the hotel, and Jim would have called him if anything had gone wrong. But, so far his phone had been completely silent. It should have been reassuring, but he found his anxiety increasing by the second.

The plan called for her to walk to a particular shop near the end of the tourist trail after she'd changed and left the clothing boutique. It should take her about ten minutes if all went well. There was a small coffee shop there, and he was to pull up to it, get out and get some coffee to go, then wander in the vicinity until he saw her. In his anxiety, he'd been earlier than expected. That allowed him to choose a parking spot around the corner from the shop, but it also meant that he was forced to wait far longer than he'd wanted to. It was nerve-wracking.

Just as panic was gripping him full in the throat, he saw her. She was dressed perfectly for the part. He strolled past her, then turned and made his way back to his car. She followed a few paces behind and they were unobserved as they slipped into the car and were lost into traffic within a matter of minutes.

Afaitu's white knuckled grip on the steering wheel slowly abated as his heart rate slowed and his breathing became more regulated.

"That was….ghastly," was all he could manage to spit out.

"Oh, darling, you've no feel for the drama, do you?" Martha opined. She'd enjoyed the subterfuge, though the knowledge that her son depended on this going off well had been very sobering.

"I think I have an ulcer," Afaitu gritted. "If not now, I surely will before this is all over."

Martha reached over and patted him reassuringly. "Darling, you're doing very well, and I've no doubt when this is all over both Richard and Katie will be incredibly grateful for all you've done. I know that I am."

Afaitu nodded. "It is, of course, a great honor to help them. I just wish we were sitting somewhere on a beach, toasting to our success and recounting how it all came together. I am no coward, but the actual _doing_ of this plan is terrifying."

"Well, I'll hold you to that toast, kiddo, when the time comes. In the meanwhile, are we on time?"

"Yes. You remember your next role?"

"I'm looking forward to it. Take me to my son."

Checking the clock, Afaitu drove around a bit randomly. They were still ahead of time. He had tuned the radio to a local news channel, and listened as Martha practiced her French with the local dialect. She had it down quickly, though this was no surprise. She had won two Oscars after all. However, the moment was soon on them and he felt the familiar clutch of nerves threaten to take over.

"Breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth," Martha advised. He tried it, and found it helped. Before he knew it, they were pulling up to Nuutania prison.

"This is it?" Martha whispered.

"Yes, this is where your son is housed."

"It looks so—grim."

Afaitu turned to her, eyes very serious. "Mrs. Rodgers, this prison is no joke. It is critically overcrowded, old and dirty. You must keep in mind your goal is to get your son out of this hellhole. Ignore what you see unless it furthers your goal."

Martha nodded slowly, and Afaitu relaxed. She would be shocked by what she saw, and the need to protect her, in whatever manner he could, settled his nerves.

Exiting their car in the visitor's parking lot, Afaitu gestured for her to take his bag, blazer, and handed her his keys in an imperious manner. Turning abruptly on his heels, he strode rapidly to the entry doors, guarded as always by two men standing sentry. Martha scurried after him, all awkward gait and obsequious manner.

Storming through the entrance, Afaitu stalked up to the visitor's desk. The man there was unknown to him; normally Afaitu came later in the day. Announcing himself in French to the guard, he initiated the next part of their plan.

"I am Afaitu Tutomo, lawyer for Jean Dupont. I wish to see my client immediately, along with my assistant here," he sneered, motioning to Martha who was standing, laden with all his items, eyes cast down.

The guard, bored stiff, barely glanced at them. "ID's, please."

Afaitu snapped his fingers at Martha, who immediately dropped his bag and scrambled to retrieve it, looking more and more incompetent by the second. ID finally obtained, Afaitu rolled his eyes and whispered conspiratorially at the guard.

"Please excuse my assistant. She was a friend of my late mother, God rest her soul, but the woman is incompetent. If it were not for the fact that she must support a crippled husband, I would fire her immediately. As it is, I wonder that I must put up with her ineptitude on a daily basis. I surely will be considered for sainthood."

The guard gave him a jaundiced eye and looked at Martha sympathetically, who gave him a wan smile before looking in fear at Afaitu. Lawyers were not well liked by prison staff. This one was more arrogant than most.

"Here is my ID, I'm sure you'll notice on the logs that I've visited him before."

Checking the ID, the guard could find nothing to prevent the visit. Returning it, he then waited expectantly.

"Thank you, sir. May we be escorted to my client now?"

"Yes, but first I must see the ID for your assistant here."

This was the crucial point; Afaitu held his breath as he watched Martha turn absolutely pale as a ghost and start furiously patting all her pockets and rummaging rapidly through the bag. Finally, she looked up with tears in her eyes and whispered in perfect French, "I left my ID at the office."

There was a perfect silence as Martha gazed at Afaitu in abject terror, Afaitu stared at her with contempt and the guard braced himself for the scene. Sure enough, Afaitu erupted into loud, excoriating French, directing his withering rage at the older woman.

"You what? How can you be so stupid, you cow! I cannot possibly be expected to complete this paperwork without assistance; this is why I brought you here. I should have known that you are completely incapable of the simplest matter. This is going to force me to go back to the office and lose half the day. I have cases! Other clients! This is unacceptable."

Martha had been drawing herself into a smaller and smaller stance, looking for the entire world like she wanted to disappear into the floor. Suddenly the guard interrupted the tirade, just before Afaitu declared he'd fire her if they had to return to the office.

"Never mind sir, it's ok. I see you've been here several times, I'm sure there's no problem."

Afaitu looked at the man in contempt. "And my stupid cow of an assistant?"

"No problem, sir. She's fine to accompany you. Let me have them fetch Dupont for you while you get set up."

Afaitu breathed a sigh of relief. They'd had a backup plan if this hadn't worked, but they'd all hoped it would. Martha had been marvelous. It was almost all too good to be true.

Escorted to the usual room where he met Rick, Afaitu waited for the door to clang shut, giving them privacy, before he skipped over and hugged Martha. "You were incredible, Mrs. Rodgers."

"I was pretty impressed with you, too, Afaitu. Are you sure you've never acted before?"

He laughed, nerves making everything seem heightened. "No, no acting, but perhaps I should consider it for a future career." Gesturing to one of the plastic chairs, he asked her to sit while they waited for Rick. He was excited for their reunion.

* * *

Rick paced nervously in his cell. Ten steps to the window. Turn. Ten steps to the doorway. Turn. Repeat. He wasn't sure how far he'd walked in this never-ending loop, but it might have been a mile or two by now.

Salesi sat on his bunk, watching. "You're making a hole," the big man stated.

"Huh?" Rick stopped at the deep tones of his friend. His cellmate had been quiet all morning, but that was not unusual. Rick had long learned to stop and listen to the other man when he chose to speak. Salesi was not loquacious, but when he decided to say something there was almost always a nugget of pure gold contained within the sparse words.

"The floor," Salesi indicated, pointing with his chin at the linoleum. "You're making a hole."

Rick distractedly ran a hand through his hair and resumed pacing in the tiny space again. "I know, I can't help it. So much could go wrong, and I'll never know. It's so hard, being stuck here, not knowing what's happening. What if they intercepted her at the airport? Or they keep her from meeting Afaitu? They were supposed to be coming today, but it's nearly noon and I still haven't heard about any visitors. What do I do if they don't make it?" With each step he was becoming more agitated, louder. He wasn't even looking as Salesi, just staring at the ground, as all his fears swirled through him and lifted his heart out of his body and sent it scudding through the air, like a dead leaf in the fall blowing aimlessly in the wind. He knew he was losing control, but couldn't stop the runaway freight train of his mind.

Step. Turn. Step, step, step, thud. Huh?

Looking up, he saw he'd run into Salesi, who was blocking his path. The Samoan placed his giant hands on Rick's shoulders gently, but firmly. "Rick. They'll make it. Calm down."

Rick simply stared, slack jawed at his friend. Finally gathering himself, he nodded.

"You're right. Sorry. It's just so much depends on this. On them. If this doesn't work…"

"It's gonna work. Good plan. Good people. Stop worrying."

"Ok, ok. I'll try. I just wish…"

"Dupont!" yelled the guard.

"Here, sir!" Rick yelled back, ducking with some difficulty around Salesi and running to the front of the cell.

"Your lawyer's here. Wants to see you."

Rick closed his eyes, relief racing through him. Thank God. "Yessir."

He felt Salesi pat him on his back. "Told you."

* * *

Rick stood nervously behind the guard as the man jangled his keys, unlocking the door to the room reserved for meetings with attorneys. This was it. Either everything had gone well and his mother was waiting for him behind this door, or one of innumerable problems had waylaid their plans and Afaitu was about to break the bad news to him.

After what seemed like a million years, the door was opened and the guard allowed him through. As he walked in, he saw Afaitu standing near the back wall, a huge grin on his face. Then he saw her. Standing next to the table.

"Richard?" she asked tremulously after the door had been locked behind him.

He was frozen, just staring at her. Eleven years since he'd seen her last. She looked older, perhaps thinner.

"Richard, oh Richard. My darling boy," she sobbed as she crossed the few steps separating them. Embracing him in a tight hug, he remained stiff for a second, then the tight rein he'd had on his emotions as he'd walked to this room cracked. He hugged her tight and cried. "Mother. It's really you. You're here."

"Yes, Richard. It's really me." She kissed him on the cheek and suddenly things seemed much more manageable. She smelled the same, smelled like the familiar scent of his mother. And for several minutes he allowed himself to be a hurt little boy in his mother's arms.

* * *

Afaitu cleared his throat a couple of times and wiped his eyes. Must be allergies. The scene in front of him had been incredibly touching, as he found himself once more witness to the unfolding of this remarkable story. Unfortunately, they were on a schedule. One that would not wait for a mother and her child to spend more time together, even after being cruelly separated.

"Rick? Rick, we need to keep going," he said, loath to interrupt the moment, but knowing that they were far from done.

"I know, Afaitu, I know." Rick broke from his mother's embrace and took her by the hand, leading her to a chair before sitting next to her.

"Do you have any questions about what happens next?" Afaitu asked him.

"Not really. It's all contingent on how they respond, right?" Rick replied. Afaitu nodded. It would be out of their hands completely within an hour or two.

"You should be wary. They may respond with direct action if they think they can get away with it." Afaitu was nervous they might stage a 'prison incident' before allowing Rick free. While a bit unlikely, he wouldn't put anything past them at this point.

"I've thought about that. But you remember I've told you about Salesi?"

Afaitu nodded. Martha simply sat, staring at her son and marveling over the confident tones of his voice as he discussed the next part of the plan with Afaitu.

"No one messes with Salesi, unless they want a world of hurt unleashed on them. Even the guards leave him alone. He's got my back, so I think if they do want to try something they're going to find it much more difficult than they ever imagined."

"Great. Do you have any more chapters done?"

"Yes." Rick withdrew the papers from inside his shirt. He'd taken to carrying them in this manner to prevent the guards from noticing just how much correspondence he was taking to his lawyer. It cut down on pointed questions.

Afaitu took them, placing them safely in his bag. Looking at his watch again, he stood. "It is time. Stay safe, Rick." He shook his hand, then walked towards the door to give Rick and Martha a moment of privacy.

Martha reached out, caressing the cheek of her only child. "You've got a beard. You look so different than the boy that left New York eleven years ago to find himself."

Rick grinned at her. "I've had a beard for longer than I can remember. It was easier on the boat, then on the island there was no choice."

Martha took his hand in hers. "Richard, I've read your story. All that was finished, anyway. I know you love her."

"More than life itself, mother."

"I'll do whatever I can to help you find her. Neither of you deserve the terrible things that were done to you so long ago. But you came through so much; I'm so proud of you, all you've done."

"You've already done a lot for us. Now it's time to go and do more. Good luck, mother. I love you."

"Oh, Richard, I love you too. I'll do my best to have you out of here as soon as possible."

With that, Afaitu banged on the door. Rick was led back to his cell, where he planned to spend the rest of the night. Avoiding the general population, sticking with Salesi in their cell, would cut down on opportunities for 'accidents'. He just hoped everything went well. And wished he had some way of knowing whether it had.

* * *

Afaitu and Martha were escorted out of the locked down area of the prison. Pausing in the visitor's center, Afaitu pointed out the women's bathroom. Martha disappeared into it with the lawyer's bag. Five minutes later, she reappeared. Dressed in her clothes from the hotel, she was Martha Rodgers once more.

"Ready?" he asked, taking her by one arm and taking his bag back in the other.

"Ready." She took a deep breath, and they walked out into the parking lot.

They walked past his car to the back of the lot, where several cars had parked, occupants spilled out on the tarmac waiting for them.

"Are you Afaitu Tutomo?" one of them asked when he and Martha approached them.

"Yes, I am."

"This better be good. I didn't realize until I got here that you'd invited these others here as well," complained the journalist. Afaitu had called them all, promising a big story. He'd never said it would be exclusive, however.

"Which one of you is Marcel Laurent?" Afaitu asked. Of them all, Laurent was the most important. He was the Agence France Presse reporter for Tahiti. It was possible with just local journalists that the story might be squashed. If the AFP published it, there would be no way to stuff the cat back into the bag.

"Right here. And my esteemed colleague is correct. This better be real good, or I'm out of here."

"Do any of you bring photographers?" Afaitu asked, holding them off for a minute. He'd figured a picture of Martha with the prison looming in the background would make great copy.

"Why don't you tell us what you've got, then we'll decide if we need pictures, buddy." One of the other journalists exhorted.

"Fine, fine. Let's get started." Afaitu straightened, took a deep breath and began. He'd decided on a straightforward approach.

"I have just exited Nuutania prison, as you all plainly saw, in the company of this lovely woman," he said, nodding at Martha, who gave the journalists a dazzling smile. "We were there to see her son, who she just learned has been unjustly tried and convicted of a crime that he cannot be guilty of. Gentlemen, may I please introduce the Academy Award winning actress Martha Rodgers, who has just visited her son, Richard Rodgers, also known the world over as best-selling author Richard Castle."

* * *

**So, what did you think?**


	36. Chapter 36: The Story Breaks

**This chapter is dedicated to CarolinaDawn. I love reading the reviews that she writes, as they are usually very enthusiastic and thorough. I've been really fortunate in that the people reading this fic have been incredibly supportive and excited about what I'm doing. CarolinaDawn is one such reader, and I am very glad she continues to leave me such great feedback. Thank you!**

* * *

April, 2010

Utter pandemonium was how he'd describe it, later. How five journalists can make that much noise at once was hard to understand. Especially out in the open, but shouting all at the same time led to…well, pandemonium. Martha stood calmly. She was used to being screamed at by more than these few reporters. The red carpet walk at the Academy Awards would put these men to shame.

"Gentlemen, please. I'll be happy to answer any of your questions, just please let's have them one at a time."

The men got themselves under control in short order. Afaitu almost laughed, the rapt attention she had from them. It was like watching a master at work. They had their notebooks out, pens poised and ready; he could swear he saw some drool dripping from their mouths.

"Now, who would like to go first?" Martha asked, tranquil and seemingly unaffected. As if this was just any other day.

"Marcel Laurent, AFP." Martha nodded. "Mrs. Rodgers, did we just hear right? Your son, declared dead many years ago, is actually alive and in this prison?"

Martha dabbed her eyes, looking distraught. "Sadly, Mr. Laurent, yes. It is true. I have seen him and spoken with him. My son Richard is alive and well."

"How can this be? What is he in jail for?" asked one of the local reporters, earning a glare from Laurent, who hadn't finished yet.

Afaitu spoke up. "You will all remember the trial of Jean Dupont, the man who pled guilty to fraud, amongst other charges, and was sentenced to many years in prison." The reporters were nodding, the case had been big news at the time in Tahiti. "Gentlemen, the man was in reality innocent of the charges. That man is indeed Richard Rodgers."

Afaitu held up his hand as their mouths all opened at once. They looked like baby birds, demanding their parents stuff worms in their opened craws. He was happy to stuff in more words. The more they knew, the better.

"Let me continue, please. Mr. Rodgers, as you'll recall, was quite ill when he was rescued. He had amnesia and had been near death. When he first remembered who he was, an official visited him to see if he was telling the truth. You must remember there is a sizeable reward still available for information leading to the whereabouts of Mr. Rodgers, so the suspicion at the time was that this was a bald attempt at money."

Furiously scribbling, the reporters nodded. This was all well known to them.

"Mr. Rodgers, unfortunately, was still quite confused. He had pieces of his story quite mixed up, and, ultimately it was determined that he was lying. Physically, of course, he had changed dramatically. He was accused of fraud and misrepresenting himself. Faced with the overwhelming belief that he was guilty, he chose not to fight the charges. He was still not fully recovered, and there were many periods where he was half convinced that he had dreamt it all up."

"When did he realize he truly was Richard Rodgers?" Christophe Martin, a prominent local reporter, asked.

"Some time ago. He has, happily, recovered almost all of his memories, save for the weeks in the little boat he was found floating in. Unfortunately, he soon realized it would be nearly impossible to now claim he was in fact Richard Rodgers. Who would believe a convicted man? I became involved in the case, and we decided the best option was to bring Mrs. Rodgers here to meet with him, confirm his identity to the world. That is where you all come in, gentlemen."

"Where has he been all this time? Why didn't he turn up earlier?"

"That is truly Richard's story to tell. However, he obviously survived the shipwreck, finding himself alone and confused on a sinking boat. He was able to make his way to an island nearby; unfortunately, it was not inhabited. There he survived these many years, alone, until for reasons he cannot remember, he ended up in the little boat. Drifting likely for weeks; again he cannot remember those details. Next he knew, he woke up in a hospital bed, wondering what was real and what was a dream."

"This is an incredible story. What do you expect to happen next, Mr. Tutomo, Mrs. Rodgers?" Laurent asked.

"We would like to call on the government of French Polynesia to release Mr. Rodgers immediately. He was convicted of fraud, for claiming his own rightful name. He has committed no crime, so we expect steps to be taken to fix this miscarriage of justice, directly and with the urgency it deserves." Afaitu declared.

"Mrs. Rodgers, how is your son?"

"He is in good spirits. Anxious to be freed, as you can imagine. He is thinner than I remember, and much more muscular. Apparently he subsisted mainly on fruits and fish while on the island. He struggled to survive, but survive he did. Only to end up in this nightmare once he made it back to civilization."

"May we take some pictures of you, Mrs. Rodgers? In front of Nuutania?"

Afaitu held back his grin with difficulty. So far this was going well. That was when he noticed one of the reporters talking frantically on his cell phone and suddenly felt a chill. What if he were speaking to Grollet or one of his henchmen? Afaitu had chosen reporters that were known to be of the highest caliber, but that didn't mean one of them wasn't in Grollet's pocket.

Seeing Afaitu's glare, the man finally hung up and turned back to them.

"Sorry, I was talking to my station. Would it be possible for you to wait around for a while longer? They are sending a truck so we can get a piece of video for the evening news."

Afaitu gave a deep sigh of relief. "Yes, yes, we are happy to oblige any video interviews."

That broke the dam, as the other men associated with television stations made their own frantic calls, and the reporter from the local newspaper called for their professional photographer to come get shots of Martha in front of the prison.

Afaitu turned, looking back at Nuutania looming above them. He hoped Rick was safe. And for the first time since this had all landed in his lap, he was able to contemplate a future that had Rick walking out of that building and back into the sunlight.

* * *

Marcel Laurent was caught in a dilemma. He had worked for Agence France-Presse, the world's oldest news agency, for over forty years. He'd spent most of those breaking the big stories around the world. Well respected, he and his wife had decided to cut back, take it easy in their golden years. He'd asked for and received a transfer to French Polynesia, where they'd found a life that was quite laid back and easygoing.

Not a place where much news broke, most of his stories back to headquarters were about the current government's actions in response to edicts from France. French Polynesia had been granted a great deal of autonomy, but there were still laws passed in faraway Paris that affected the locals.

Now, he found himself in the middle of a genuine, honest to god story. One that would undoubtedly be picked up worldwide. And, given the fact that he was the only reporter present with a global news agency behind his name, it would be his story that was carried internationally. At least until the rest of the world sent its own contingents of journalists to cash in on what was clearly an unbelievable human interest story.

Which brought him back to his current dilemma. This was potentially a huge, giant, _holy crap_ story. But—but, was it true? Was this woman actually Martha Rodgers? She looked like her, sounded like her. Yet, Marcel had been around for some stories that looked just as fresh on the surface, then turned into rotten shit the moment one dug in to it. He wouldn't blindly wire anything back to headquarters without some sort of confirmation. And the best way to do that was to speak with Mrs. Rodgers' people.

Walking about ten feet away from the rest of the pack, who were salivating over their chance to speak to such a famous person with such a humongous story, he put in a phone call to his small office. Speaking rapidly to his assistant, he instructed her on how to contact Rodgers' representatives in the States. Making sure she understood the urgency, he hung up and hoped there would be a quick response. He wanted to jump on the story as badly as the rest of them, but he knew well the risk of jumping in front of a story, only to have it run you over instead.

While he waited, he pulled open a web browser on his phone and reviewed what had previously been reported about the disappearance of Richard Rodgers. Marcel had not yet arrived in Tahiti, those years ago. He had no first-hand knowledge of the event.

And an event it had been. It had been revealed that the best-selling author had been working on a poor cargo boat for almost a year, supposedly researching a new character. That seemed like a long time to do research for, so Marcel made a note of it. What was absolutely fascinating was that the current President of French Polynesia had also been a passenger on the ill-fated boat. As he read of the circumstances surrounding the loss of the _Iriata_ and subsequent rescue of the survivors—well, three of them anyway—Marcel became convinced there was more to the story.

Obviously, with the supposed rescue of Richard Rodgers, a whole can of worms was about to be opened. Marcel wondered if the President had any inkling that the man known as Jean Dupont was, in fact, his old shipmate. Grollet, at the time of rescue, had been full of despair at the fact that three were left behind. Marcel quickly checked on the other names: an Arenui, who was a crewman on the ship, and another passenger, Kate Beckett—an American like Rodgers. Hmm, interesting. Suddenly his gut was tingling even further.

It was very interesting that Grollet had been able to use the sympathy generated by the rescue and cash it in for a political career. Since Marcel's arrival in the South Pacific three years ago, he'd recognized that Grollet was a consummate politician. He didn't particularly care for the man, but he had to acknowledge that Grollet knew how to play the game. Marcel found himself praying this was all true, that it was not a hoax. The human drama to follow was going to be better than any film Mrs. Rodgers could ever star in on the big screen.

* * *

Jim Beckett was waiting by the phone. Oh, he was pretending to do other jobs as well, but the reality was, he was waiting for the phone to ring. The plan called for Afaitu and Martha to meet with local reporters around 1pm Tahiti time; he should be getting phone calls soon after, if they wanted to verify anything. He expected they would, for a story like this.

Martha had called hours earlier, after getting to Papeete and into her hotel safely. Everything had been going well to that point. The next steps were the ones that scared Jim the most: making sure no one was following her and getting in to see Richard. It was now nearly 8pm in New York, which is six hours ahead of Tahiti.

Celeste had made dinner and forced him to eat something; all the while he tried not to look at his phone. She was now taking a call from another client, a bit of a diva actress, if you asked Jim, and he was sitting in their living room trying to pretend he was being productive.

He'd been working on issues that would be raised by the return of Richard (and Katie) to the world of the living. He hadn't been able to file any motions, not wanting to tip their hands, but the issue had merited research.

Richard's case had been the most complicated, not surprising. Not because he was rich, as it turned out, but because he'd been in French Polynesia for almost a year. Jim had looked at case law thoroughly. In the United States, the case of the 'living dead' was spelled out best by a 1990 law review titled "The Rights of the Living Dead: Absent Persons in the Civil Law," by a professor named Jeanne Carriere at the Tulane University School of Law.

Most states allowed someone to be declared dead after 5- 7 years of continuous absence, provided that an effort was made to find the missing person. After this time, debts from the estate would be paid and the estate distributed, spouses could legally remarry and children receive social security.

However, the 7 year wait came into play only if the missing person simply disappeared. When someone was exposed to "imminent peril", such as a plane crash or a shipwreck, and failed to return, the courts could presume they were dead without any waiting period.

Martha and Jim had had this option in the States once the three survivors had been found and related the tale of the shipwreck that had supposedly killed Richard and Katie. However, neither of them had wanted to exercise it. Neither Katie nor Richard were married, had children, or significant debts. Thus, seeing no need to have them declared dead, they'd chosen to wait. At seven years absence, they were forced into a declaration; Richard's estate could no longer lie in limbo.

However, well before that time, the French government had attempted to have Richard declared dead, based on a French law that allowed a French citizen, or a foreigner who lived in a French protectorate, to be declared dead by a prosecutor or interested parties. Shortly after Grollet, Tane and Tamahere had been rescued, a court in French Polynesia ruled that Richard was dead and that they had jurisdiction because Richard had lived in the islands for the past year.

At the time, Jim had still been fighting the battle with the bottle, but Martha had been devastated by the news. She'd no need or desire for him to be declared dead; looking back now, Jim wondered at the motivation. He figured Grollet must have been behind it somehow, though to what end? Either way, Martha had had to hire an international attorney who'd shown that Richard still retained a residence in the States, a passport from the US, and was intending to return there shortly, based on letters to Martha. They'd gotten the ruling reversed. Yet, it made Jim nervous. What could Grollet have been playing at?

Now that Jim knew they were both alive (he wouldn't entertain the possibility that Katie was not), their return would mean a lot of paperwork, but nothing insurmountable. The main complicating issues that occurred when people were found alive was when there had been large insurance payments to beneficiaries or social security benefits. Neither insurance companies nor the government liked paying people for the loss of a loved one when said loved one was actually alive. Most of those payouts had to be then paid back. But, things were pretty simple with Richard and Katie.

The ringing of his phone startled him. He'd gotten distracted thinking about the ramifications of the law. Seeing it was an international call, his heart started racing.

"Hello?"

"Good evening, this is Angelique Durand, from Agence France-Presse. I am calling to speak to Jim Beckett."

The voice on the other end was young, with heavily accented French. Jim smiled; Afaitu and Martha must have pulled it off.

"Speaking. How may I help you Ms. Durand?"

"I was given your information as the agent and contact for the actress, Martha Rodgers?"

"Yes, that is correct. My company has represented Mrs. Rodgers for years."

"Excellent. I am calling you to confirm some information given to one of my colleagues. First, is Mrs. Rodgers currently visiting French Polynesia?"

"Yes, she is. I made the arrangements myself. She flew there on Air Tahiti Nui, arriving on the redeye from LAX early this morning."

"May I ask what she is here for?"

"We met here in New York a few weeks ago with a representative of a prisoner in your Nuutania prison, who presented compelling evidence that her son, Richard Rodgers, missing for ten years now, was in fact alive and well. She went there to confirm his identity."

"And the name of this representative that you met with?"

"Afaitu Tutomo. He is the attorney for Mrs. Rodgers son."

"I see. And did you review the evidence as well, Mr. Beckett?"

"I did."

"And you believed it?"

"Yes. There is no doubt in my mind that her son is in prison on your island right now. She has flown there to help obtain his immediate release."

"Thank you very much for the information, Mr. Beckett. May I call you if we need anything else?"

"Absolutely. Glad to help; Richard deserves justice, and his mother is there to seek it for him."

After spelling his name for the woman and obtaining her phone number in case he needed to contact her, he sat back, relieved. Celeste wandered in and found him sitting on the couch, smiling at nothing.

"What is it Jim?"

He roused, looked around absently, then pulled her into his lap, grinning widely. "I just got a call from a journalist with AFP, trying to verify some of what Martha had told them. They did it, Celeste, they did it!"

* * *

Marcel Laurent got the confirmation from Angelique at 2:30pm, Tahiti time. He instructed her to send out a camera crew immediately, then approached the lawyer, Tutomo, to request time.

"Mr. Tutomo, I see Mrs. Rodgers has been busy giving video interviews," he said, nodding to where a local news crew was currently interviewing the actress. The pieces were intended to run that evening. However, Marcel's story would be different. It was intended for a global audience, and by the time he had it filmed and filed, it would be past midnight in Paris. However, he knew that the news climate of the world had changed dramatically since he'd been fresh out of journalism school; news was now a 24/7 business.

"Yes, we are hoping to have her son's plight broadcast throughout French Polynesia this evening," Afaitu replied.

"Mr. Tutomo, we both know you didn't ask me here for a simple, local news story. You need this to go far beyond French Polynesia. That's where I come in."

Afaitu regarded the man. He was right. And the man was no fool. "I assume you used your connections to check out the story?"

"Yes. It checks. This is really Martha Rodgers." It wasn't a question, per se, but a marvel that this was really happening. That a man in this day and age could disappear for ten years, then turn up in prison, of all places. And not just any man: a man of international fame. It was truly a mind boggling event. But an event, it was.

"It is really Martha Rodgers. And Richard Rodgers. He is a remarkable man, as I hope you will soon see."

"I hope I do. Listen, I have a crew on its way. We will be filing our story with Paris. I assume that is fine with you?"

"More than fine, Mr. Laurent."

"Do you know why he was left behind? Has he told you?"

Afaitu just smiled enigmatically at the other man. He wanted to tell him that it was a story for the ages, one that would captivate the world once the truth came out. That it was a story of survival in the face of calamity. A love story in the face of a fight to survive. But he could say none of these things. So, he settled for the simple, and the truth.

"The story belongs to Richard Rodgers. It is his right to tell it; I think he has earned it, no? Thrown in jail for daring to claim he was who he was. Perhaps as early as tomorrow, he'll be able to tell you in person."

"You have a wildly optimistic view of the court system, if you think he'll be out tomorrow." Laurent was certain the man would be released; after all, he was innocent. But tomorrow?

"You do your job well, Mr. Laurent, and I have no doubt of the outcome."

* * *

"This is Marcel Laurent, of the Agence France-Presse reporting from Papeete, Tahiti in French Polynesia. I am standing in front of the notorious prison, Nuutania. Long considered one of the worst prisons in all of France, it is seriously overcrowded, decrepit and dangerous. Into this terrible place, a man was condemned about six weeks ago. His name, he claimed, was Richard Rodgers. Yes, the very Richard Rodgers that disappeared at sea ten years ago and was presumed dead. The Richard Rodgers who was better known under his pen name, Richard Castle."

Grollet's private office phone rang. Pausing the news program, he answered absently. He heard the familiar voice on the other end; a touch of panic threaded through it. "Are you watching this? It's on all the local stations as well. What the hell are we going to do?"

"Calm down. Panic and all _is_ lost. I haven't seen all of it. Let me watch the rest; I'll call you. And don't call me on this phone again." '_Stupid pig_' he thought as he hung up. He was alone, in his overstuffed office. Rising from his chair, he poured a stiff drink before resuming his seat and pressing play on the DVR.

"…pen name, Richard Castle. This man was found drifting on a tiny boat on the ocean. Near death, unconscious, he was brought to Papeete and treated successfully for his injuries. He regained consciousness and eventually his memory of who he was. However, no one believed him. Not the hospital, not the government. He was accused of seeking the reward money that still exists for information regarding Richard Rodgers. Alone, friendless, still confused, he pled guilty and was sent to the prison you see behind me. That might have been the end for the man that came to be known as Jean Dupont."

He wished it had been. Perhaps they should have killed him outright, before he'd had a chance to say anything. He'd been nervous about any impulsive actions, and had thought he'd had all the bases covered. The plan had been for him to die in a few months, unknown, missed by no one. Hell, he'd tried to have him declared dead here in Tahiti all those years ago. The potential boon to the coffers, if they'd proved he'd lived here, had been his foot in the door to politics. One of them, anyway. That plan had fallen apart. Clearly the most recent one had gone up in smoke as well. What was it about Richard Rodgers? Nothing Grollet did to him ever seemed to actually affect the man. It was maddening.

"However, he was recognized. And eventually a lawyer found his way to him. Afaitu Tutomo," the camera panned to show a young Polynesian lawyer standing in front of the prison. He gave a slight smile to the camera, but was otherwise silent.

"Mr. Tutomo met with the man known as Jean Dupont, and determined a way to discover the truth. He flew to the United States and brought back the one person who could identify Mr. Rodgers," the camera now zoomed out to show Martha Rodgers standing next to Tutomo. She was easily recognizable, famous the world over. Grollet squeezed his eyes closed; they'd managed to outmaneuver his men, somehow. The woman had bright red hair, for God's sake! How anyone could have lost her while shopping was a mystery he'd never solve.

"Today, his mother, the famed actress, Martha Rodgers, entered the infamous Nuutania, met with the man who called himself Richard Rodgers and identified him as her son."

The camera zoomed so Martha was framed alone in the shot, Nuutaina still looming over her.

"Mrs. Rodgers, what do you have to say about the events today?"

"I was ecstatic to see my son after so many years believing him dead. He is, of course, anxious to be set free and eager to be reunited with his family."

"What is the next step, now that you have found your son?"

"I call on the courts of France, the government of France and French Polynesia, to right this wrong immediately. My son has committed no crime, and his incarceration is a sham. I beg you to do the right thing and allow Richard to rejoin the world as he ought to months ago, when he was found."

"Thank you, Mrs. Rodgers. I'm sure I speak for the rest of the world when I say that we would like nothing more than to see your son set free as well. This is Marcel Laurent, AFP, in Papeete, Tahiti."

"Son of a bitch," Grollet screamed, launching the tumbler of alcohol against a wall, shattering it. It was all coming apart. And he had to salvage it. Everything depended on his actions, once more.

* * *

**I want to apologize for not responding to all your wonderful reviews for the last chapters. I've been on service and managed to triple the number of patients in the hospital on the pulmonary service. It's been incredibly busy, and most nights I just get home and collapse in bed. This is why updates are posted so late as well. Very sorry.**

**Carriere, Jeanne, "The Rights of the Living Dead: Absent Persons in the Civil Law," 50 La. L. Rev. 901 (1990)**


	37. Chapter 37: Sharing Sunshine Once Again

**This chapter is dedicated to shadowinthedust. Dedicated reader, highly supportive in reviews and PMs. Cannot thank all of you guys enough for all the great comments and questions that I get on a daily basis. You all challenge me to be a better writer, and I'm so glad people are enjoying this story so much. Thanks for all the reviews, shadowinthedust and all the rest of you.**

* * *

April, 2010

"Hey, Rodgers, there's two more out there."

Rick looked up from where he sat on his bunk. The other man, a fellow inmate, had paused uncertainly by the open doorway, intimidated by Salesi's glare. Rick didn't remember the guy's name; he was one of a parade of inmates who happened to be 'walking by' and wanted to speak to Rick.

"Ok, thanks for the information." Rick went back to looking at his notes while Salesi continued to guard their cell.

Overnight, Rick had become a celebrity within Nuutania. The local evening news and late night news had been full of the footage of Martha standing in front of the prison pleading for her son's release. There was also video of crews trying to get statements from the prosecutor and judge that had presided over his trial, without any measurable success. His former defense attorney had holed up somewhere and was 'unavailable.'

With the first broadcast of the story, Rick found himself not only a much more popular inmate, but one that suddenly everyone 'knew all along' was innocent. They called him by his real name, even the guards. No one was willing to risk the wrath of an innocent man who clearly would soon be walking free. Especially an innocent, filthy-rich, world famous man.

Despite the about face from seemingly every inmate and guard in the prison, Rick had chosen to stick close to Salesi. They remained in their cell unless absolutely required to leave. It was now mid-morning the day after he'd seen his mother and Afaitu. The new in vogue game in the prison was for those whose cells faced the parking lot to report on the arrivals of more news crews. Apparently the tarmac was beginning to look like a convention of satellite trucks, news crews, and the merely curious. Some enterprising locals had also arrived in their food trucks, eager to cash in on the whole spectacle.

Salesi and Rick had no TV to watch in their cell, so those without a direct view of the circus comforted themselves by being glued to the TV and racing to bring news to Rick from that front. He'd learned this morning that his mother and Afaitu were once again holding court in the parking lot, granting interviews and repeating their pleas for Rick's release.

Tahiti was certainly receiving attention. Flights into Papeete had been packed with news crews racing to make it to the island. There were reports of tourists being offered thousands of dollars for their seats on an inbound flight. Hotels were similarly snapped up. Everyone wanted to be there before Rick's release, though no one had heard when that might be, including the man it concerned the most.

Recognizing that this was news of an international magnitude, a few of the local stations had basically been broadcasting nothing but the topic of Richard Rodgers from 8 that morning. They'd struggled to fill airtime, initially, since not much was known about the man currently. So, they'd been showing old footage from the original survivors of the _Iriata_, then later footage of the man who would be convicted of being himself.

The Presidential Manor was also under siege. Guessing that President Grollet was the only one with the ability to release Rick immediately, by granting him a special pardon, several reporters had staked out the house. Grollet had not yet made a statement about the situation, nor had he been seen in public since the story broke. This fact was starting to lead to speculation amongst the various journalists. The two men had, after all, been on the same boat for days. It seemed strange that the President had yet to publicly comment on the incredible news.

Not to be outdone, news agencies in the States had tried to get interviews with people from Rick's life before his disappearance. They were generally unsuccessful, mostly because he hadn't had many friends or close acquaintances, and his mother was, of course, already in Papeete. However, Rick had heard from a breathless inmate that a school friend named Harold had just been on TV talking about what a great guy Rick had been. Rick just rolled his eyes. He didn't remember Harold.

One worrisome trend had come out of the race to fill air time: rehashing the stories of all the people involved in the shipwreck. People were very familiar with Grollet's rise to fame and fortune. Tane, less so, but he was known to be a close friend of the President. Tamahere was an unknown entity after the rescue. No real trace of him had been found in the few hours they'd had to look for him. It was well known that Arenui had died on the way to Raivavae, and that his death had altered the course of the boat dramatically. Finally, the life of Kate Beckett was brought up.

This last terrified Rick; it was all he could do to stay in the cell and act nonchalant when inmate after inmate relayed the questions the broadcasters were asking. If Rick were alive, after Grollet himself had claimed he was dead, what about Kate Beckett? Perhaps she'd also survived? Then there were the questions as to where he'd been all this time. An abbreviated search had been done ten years ago, mostly to recover the ship. No trace had been found of the ship or the three bodies left behind. No one had any idea where the ship had even wrecked.

But, with palpable evidence that it had wrecked near enough an island for someone to survive, a debate sprang up once more as to where it could be. Which desolate rock was just bountiful enough for someone to survive on for ten years? The thought of someone out there looking for it—finding her before he had a chance to look—it was paralyzing.

"Rodgers!"

It was yet another inmate. This one was a TV watcher, one who'd been in earlier to tell them that the Mayor of New York had released a statement relaying how happy he was that his old friend had been found alive. Rick had no idea that Bob had made it all the way to mayor, but was happy for him. They'd met in college and remained friends for years, though he wouldn't say he was a close friend.

"Rodgers, you didn't tell me you were married."

Rick's heart stopped beating. No one knew except for Afaitu, Tamahere, his mother and Jim Beckett, and they only because they'd read his account of his beautiful wedding. He'd not even told Salesi. Closing his eyes, he succumbed to despair. They knew. Somehow they knew. And he'd never find her in time, not while still stuck in here.

"She's hot."

Huh? Kate was on TV? He looked up at the other man, tears still in his eyes. Mistaking the emotion for relief and joy over hearing about his wife, the other man continued.

"TV just said she's on her way here from Los Angeles."

"What?!" What? Rick shook his head, not sure this wasn't some surreal nightmare.

"Yeah, she's flying in to be with you. You ever think she looks a lot like your mom?" Seeing the look of utter confusion on Rick's face, he added, "You know, the red hair and everything."

Rick's mouth did his best impression of a fish. 'Oh. Fuck.' was the best his brain could come up with.

* * *

Another hour passed, with nothing more exciting than two more ulcers erupting in Rick's already raw stomach. Jesus. Meredith was coming. And telling the world she was married to him. Which was patently false and perhaps the most laughable thing in the world. His wife was the complete opposite of Meredith. But it wasn't exactly something he could tell the world, could he?

"Rick." Salesi addressed him in a rare moment when the revolving circuit of inmates bringing him 'information' was currently off.

"Yeah?" Rick was lying down now. Pillow over his eyes. He'd known announcing his identity would be news, but this was far more reaction than he'd ever anticipated.

"It's gonna be fine."

Rick felt like sobbing some more, but he wasn't sure he had any tears left to give. He thought he'd been quiet, but the gentle giant was much more perceptive than most people gave him credit for.

"You'll be outta here, soon. Then you fix whatever it is that's wrong."

"God, I hope I can. I hope I can pull this all off, Salesi."

"You can. You're strong."

Rick felt guilty for not telling him everything, but with Salesi having to stay behind, it was just safer. He trusted the man, but there was nothing Salesi could do to help them from Nuutania, so there was no need for him to know everything. He was smart though; he'd figured out there was more to the story, but also smart enough to know he didn't need to know the details. He was truly a good friend.

"Thanks, Salesi. I appreciate that. You know, I'll do everything I can to help you. After I…after….after this is all over."

"Don't worry about me. Go help Kate."

Rick stared at his friend. "H-how?" he coughed.

"You talk in your sleep. No worries, I won't say anything. But you help her first, then me."

"Deal."

"Rodgers!"

Rick looked up to see who was calling his name now. This time, it was a guard.

"Your lawyer and your mother are here to see you."

Rick nodded, started to hop down from his bunk, but the guard wasn't done speaking.

"Bring all your stuff. Rumor has it that the President is on his way."

Rick swallowed, hard. This might be it. He might be hours from being able to start looking for her.

"Rick."

He turned, looking at Salesi.

"Good luck." The Samoan wrapped him in a giant, bone crushing hug.

"Thank you, Salesi. Thank you for everything."

"No problem. Now, go meet your mom."

Rick nodded, then gathered his few belongings. He left the paper and pens for Salesi.

Following the guard, he was taken to a much nicer room than the usual meeting place. This one was carpeted, had several plush chairs and a large table. It was far from luxurious, but in Nuutania it was probably the nicest room in the place.

Afaitu and his mother were shown in not long after he'd been left alone.

Martha rushed to her son, giving him a big hug and kiss. Afaitu shook his hand.

"How did your night go?"

Rick explained that he'd become an overnight celebrity.

"That would account for this new room, then. Even the prison warden must see that your release is imminent."

"The guard that brought me here said that the President might be on his way."

"Yes, the reporters nearly fainted when they heard that rumor. Their colleagues at the Presidential Manor called and informed them that his limo had been spotted leaving the compound. However, they do not know for sure where he was headed."

"Do you think I'll be released today?"

"I would be surprised if you're not. Just in case, Mrs. Rodgers has brought you some clothes."

Martha emptied her bag onto the table. "Darling, I don't know your size anymore. I guessed, and ended up buying a couple of different ones just in case."

"Thank you, mother."

"You're welcome, Richard. Oh, this is so exciting. Have you seen any of the reports on TV?"

Rick explained he'd stayed in his room, but how information had been ferried his way.

"I just watched a little on the TV in the hotel room last night, Richard. I knew I needed my sleep for today. But it appears that the whole world knows about you. They all seem to be cheering for you. Thank goodness for Jim, he's been screening my calls from New York. Everyone wants to talk to me, and once you're released it will be the same. If not worse."

Rick grimaced. "Speaking of which, one of the inmates watching TV came and told me that Meredith was on the news saying that we were married?"

"What?" Martha gasped. "Why would she do that?"

"I have no idea. Have you heard from her since I disappeared?"

"Not really. I saw her briefly just after the story broke that you'd been lost at sea. She told me how sorry she was that things hadn't worked out and she missed you." Martha fell silent for a few seconds, then took a deep breath. "You know, come to think of it, I did see her once more. I was getting ready to pack up your apartment, and I got a call from the super telling me that Meredith had shown up. She thought she'd left some items there, so I told the super to let her in. I got there just as she was leaving. She had a small bag, told me she'd found what she wanted."

Rick shuddered. "I can't imagine she had anything of value there. Why would she say we're married now?"

"I have no idea, darling, but you know how she is about publicity. This story is huge, and I'll bet she's just trying to cash in on the whole thing."

"Well, it's ridiculous. They apparently are reporting that she's on her way here. Just what I need to deal with on top of everything else."

"Maybe that's a good thing," Afaitu said, startling Rick.

"Huh? How do you figure?" Afaitu clearly didn't know the drama that swirled around Meredith.

"Just think. If there's some actress from the States that shows up claiming to be your wife, Grollet and the rest will have even less reason to think you'll be looking for Kate. Meredith will serve as a distraction."

Rick had growled at the mention of Meredith being his wife, but by the time Afaitu got done talking, he realized it was a good idea. Not one that he liked, but still a good idea.

Afaitu, seeing that Rick was listening to him, and not rejecting the idea out of hand, pressed his advantage. "Remember, Grollet is probably on his way here. That's partly the reason we're in a nicer room than usual. He's going to want to be part of this, try to spin it in his direction. If you say something about your wife coming, he might relax a bit."

"But she's not my wife. I won't do that to Kate. And what about the fact that no one's heard of her until I was found alive? Where was she when I disappeared?"

"Fine, call her your secret fiancée. Or, don't say anything about her story except that she's not your wife. Don't deny anything else. It will only be a lie by omission. As for where she's been, I'm pretty sure Meredith will have some explanation for that. Grief stricken, unable to face the press back then."

Rick snorted. That would be the day. Meredith, press shy.

Afaitu grinned at him. "No matter what else happens, know that you are very close to being free to pursue your search, find your wife. Keep that goal firmly in mind and forget about the drek."

Rick stood from the chair next to his mother and hugged Afaitu. "Thank you so much for everything you've done."

"It's not over yet, Richard Rodgers. I want to meet this wife of yours and finish reading your story about life on the island."

"You will. I hope to write a lot more in it before it ends."

They spent the next half hour discussing how to handle Grollet and the inevitable press conference. Assuming he was released later that day, though they'd heard nothing further on the matter.

A knock at the door interrupted them. The warden of the prison entered, clearly nervous.

"Mr. Rodgers, I just wanted you to know that President Grollet will be arriving in another hour or so. He's indicated to me that you'll be pardoned and released."

"Oh, thank God," Martha exclaimed. She shook out a tissue and started dabbing her eyes again.

"I've come to offer you the use of the showers and a barber if you desire; I was told your mother brought you some clothes?"

Rick nodded. Making eye contact with Afaitu, he saw that the man wanted him well groomed for the coming press interviews. He decided he would shave, to look more like the man he'd been in New York: Richard Castle. More people would identify with that picture than the bearded sailor known as Rodgers.

"Oh, and I almost forgot," the warden said, just before leaving the room, "here are your personal effects that we were holding for you after your incarceration here." He dropped a paper bag on the table with the clothes Martha had purchased for him. "I hope your stay with us wasn't entirely horrible, Mr. Rodgers."

Rick managed not to respond to this last comment, though his silence was in no way reassuring to the warden. The man turned tail and scuttled off after Rick refused to lie through his teeth and simper about how it hadn't been _so_ bad.

Finding his eye drawn back to the paper bag, he tried to remember what he might have had on his person that would now be found in this bag. Clothes were definitely not worth keeping; he'd been in threads by the time he was found. But—maybe—something of her. Could it have survived all this time? He shuffled a step forward, intending to open the bag, but afraid to find nothing but fibers. His mother beat him to it.

"Well, let's see what you had with you," Martha said, dumping the bag out unceremoniously. "Threadbare and filthy clothes, a knife, some water bottles, long empty. Oh, what's this?"

Rick looked up to see her holding a cord with a wooden ring hanging from it. His wedding ring. It _had_ made it. Survived, just as they had. Muffling a sob, he snatched the cord from her hands and fell to his knees, cradling it in his hands. Ignoring the tears streaming from his face, and the strange looks from his mother and Afaitu, he simply knelt on the floor and held that small piece of her in his hands.

Violent shaking of his shoulders eventually penetrated his consciousness; brought him back from her, from their time together. His mother peered at him in concern.

"Richard, what is it?"

He held it up to her, an offering in the palm of his hands. Seeing it there, it suddenly registered with Martha what it must be.

"Oh, darling. I'm so glad it made it all this way with you. Here, let's put it back where it belongs."

She took the cord and secured it about his neck. A feeling of rightness, of deep contentment, suffused him. Whatever the coming days brought him, she was there with him. Over his heart, which she fully occupied. He choked on another sob, then was once again enveloped by his mother's arms.

"She's waiting for you, Richard. Now, you need to go shower and shave. Then meet with this man, this president, and convince him and the rest of the world you're simply thrilled to be back and believed. Do it for her- for Katie."

Rick nodded, then slowly stood. He grabbed the pile of new clothes and followed one of the guards to the showers. They must have been for the staff, as they were far nicer than the ones for the inmates. He luxuriated under the spray, washing the stench of the prison off and kissing his ring several times. Drying off, he dressed in some khaki pants and a blue button down shirt his mother had bought. He knew she'd picked the colors on purpose. He had an image to project, and his mother was an expert at the presentation part of the illusion.

He found the barber waiting for him outside the showers, and was treated to a quick trim and an expert shave. It felt very odd to be beardless in the first time for…well, a decade or more. He wondered what Kate would think of it; she'd never known him without facial hair.

Looking in the mirror, he didn't recognize the stranger staring back at him. He was thin, but fit. Handsome and confident. But the eyes…they were haunted. Rick knew they'd stay this way until he found her. Practicing a few fake smiles, he returned to the room with Afaitu and his mother, after kissing his ring one last time. It was hidden beneath his shirt, so no one should notice it.

Martha let out a squeak when she saw her clean-shaven son, and ran to give him another tight hug.

"Richard, you look more like yourself." She ran her hand over his freshly revealed cheeks.

"It feels strange," he admitted. "The clothes look ok?"

"Yes, perfect."

Another knock on the door interrupted them. This time several men in suits entered, followed by a man Rick would never forget for as long as he lived.

"Mr. Rodgers. It has been a very long time, but such a welcome sight you are," oozed the oily voice of Henri Grollet.

Rick took a deep breath. He'd mentally prepared for this moment, but to be physically in the same room as the man? It took more effort to restrain himself from snapping the snake's neck than he'd expected.

"Mr. Grollet. It's nice to see you again."

The snake slithered across the room and flicked his forked tongue again.

"It is a miracle that you are here, is it not?" He held out an appendage for Rick to shake, which Rick took, reluctantly. Someone snapped a picture of the moment, no doubt to be released to the press demonstrating how _friendly_ this meeting had been.

"Yes, a miracle," Rick muttered. Realizing he was sounding less than welcoming, he hit the snake with a wide smile. It was as good as a pungi, as the hood flattened completely and the cobra's head began to dance as he spoke.

"Well, as incredible a story it is, and it is incredible, we have some things to do today besides catch up. I am going to be holding a press conference shortly, announcing my official pardon of you and your immediate release from Nuutania."

Martha clapped her hands again and shouted, "Marvelous, just marvelous." It kept the snake distracted, so he failed to see that Rick was not smiling quite as widely as before. However, Rick managed to school his features back to 'appreciative doormat' before the snake swung his head back in his direction.

"After I make the announcement, I would like you to come out and be introduced to the press. I'm sure they'll have many questions for you, as do I."

Afaitu spoke up before Rick could say anything. "Where will this press conference be taking place?"

"Out in the parking lot. Most of the news crews are located there. If you'd like a more formal setting, you could wait until later and speak from a hotel conference room. However, you should know that in order for them to make the late news in the States, they would prefer to do this now."

"That's fine," Rick said. He wanted his face broadcast in the States tonight; proof he was alive. He wanted no doubt as to his status, and thus insurance against anything untoward happening.

"Tell me, Mr. Rodgers, just what happened to you? What do you remember?"

Rick took a fortifying breath, then launched into the story as they'd rehearsed it.

"I remember lying down to sleep in my bunk after my shift, then waking up with a splitting headache and aching body. I was somehow in the bathroom of the bunkhouse, and when I stumbled out, I found no one else around and the ship clearly foundered on a rock."

"Amazing. We had looked for you, but I was the one who saw you in the bathroom after the wreck. It appeared you were dead; I tried to find a pulse, but could not palpate one. I thought for sure you were dead and gone."

Rick grimaced. "I'm sure I looked quite horrible. I know when I woke up I was disoriented and could hardly think straight. I knew it was bad, but I couldn't process what had happened. I grabbed a life vest and made my way to the bow, but found the lifeboat gone. I must have stood there for a while, wondering what to do next. Then, a big wave hit the boat and tossed me over the side. I started swimming, and after what seemed like hours washed up on an island."

"Incredible! So, you were all alone on the boat?"

"Well, it sure seemed that way. You guys were gone, not sure for how long. I've read that you found Kate Beckett dead, and of course Arenui was already gone, God rest his soul. Who else would be left?"

"Of course, you are right. It's just such an amazing tale, I wasn't thinking. Please continue."

"There's not much left to say. I found the island to be uninhabited. Fortunately, there were plenty of trees with fruit and plants to eat, as well as fresh water. I saw no other living beings until I woke up in the hospital."

"Truly remarkable. We searched for the shipwreck of course, but could never find any sign of it."

"No, it sank quickly. I could see it from the island—from the beach where I lived—but within days of my arrival on the island it was completely gone. I'd hoped to build a boat and go back to it, grab things like ropes and plates, food and water, pots, things like that. But, I never had a chance. She sank before I was even halfway done with a boat."

"Ah, that is a pity. But you were able to survive all these years."

"Yes, though it was harder and harder. I gave up hope of rescue. Eventually, I knew I had to take a chance and try to reach civilization. So, I built a better boat, and after quite an arduous journey, here I am."

"Yes, here you are. You do know we had no idea who you were. It was too incredible to believe that you'd survived all this time. My deepest apologies from the government and all involved."

"It has been quite difficult, I won't lie, but I'm glad you've admitted your mistake and worked to set it right."

"Well, then we shall take my limo down to the waiting press. If I may suggest, I would like to speak alone, first. Then we'll have you join me, and they could ask you questions? Would that be acceptable?"

Rick nodded, and they filed out the door to the waiting embrace of the limousine. Rick rejoiced in the feeling of his first step as a free man outside of Nuutania. Squinting up at the bright sun, he thought about her sunkissed hair, her skin bronzed by overexposure to the radiation. The smell of her after she'd been working in the garden under the watchful rays of the sun. He stood, drinking in all the sunbeams he could and imagining those hitting her at the same time. _Soon, Kate, soon_. "I'm coming," he said aloud, unbidden.

Grollet turned back at the sound. "Yes, Mr. Rodgers. Right this way."

Rick shuddered, then followed the trail of the snake into its den. He'd get through this because it brought him that much closer to finding her.

* * *

**He's out! Though perhaps out of the frying pan and into the fire, if the coming events are anything to judge it by. What do you guys think of the latest events?**


	38. Chapter 38: Of Snakes and Men

**This chapter is dedicated to KateCastle23. Thank you for all the reviews you've left me and the PMs that we've exchanged. One of my most consistent, persistent readers who always lets me know how she liked the chapter. Appreciate it!**

* * *

April, 2010

Marcel Laurent had covered many large stories over the years. From war torn tragedies to natural disasters, he was no stranger to the frantic push for information, then confirmation of a story.

However, the news that Richard Rodgers was alive, and that his Academy Award winning mother had essentially arrived in order to beg to get him out of jail, had touched off a maelstrom of interest. And, honestly, in the other big stories Marcel had covered, the story broke and he got sent to it. He'd never been at ground zero before.

There were a few other big stories this month: the explosion of the drilling platform in the Gulf, the Deepwater Horizon, was on the front pages for the U.S. and a terrible earthquake in China had led to thousands of deaths, but the pure human interest of a celebrity returned to life ten years after a shipwreck had purportedly killed him was going to generate a lot of attention.

The celebrity cult was a phenomena that often trumped other stories that should have been widely circulated but simply failed to gain interest. So, after filing his report and video to AFP last night, the response had been immediate: go forth and get more. As much as possible.

So, he now found himself back in that god-forsaken parking lot, waiting for a statement to be made by the President. Who, he knew from his research, was a former shipmate of the unfortunate Rodgers. And who was the one that had reported both Rodgers and Kate Beckett as being dead. That had been clear from the statements of the other men, Tane and Tamahere, after their rescue, which he'd reviewed last night before succumbing to a few hours of sleep.

Marcel could taste that there was more going on here. It was on the tip of his tongue. Much, much more. Something just didn't add up. But, until he heard from the men involved, _all_ he had was speculation. Which was not something he would ever succumb to printing. He was old school, not like the empty talking heads found so often behind the desks of news organizations these days. Much of what passed for news nowadays was little better than innuendo passed off as entertainment. True, hard facts get in the way of a story? Then just forget them and print or say what you want. But that's _not_ how Marcel Laurent worked, and fortunately his employer still valued real news.

A stir in the crowd of fellow journalists alerted him to the presence of some government aides. They quickly erected a small lectern facing the crowd, with the official seal of French Polynesia on it. Microphones were run to the podium from the satellite trucks, an AFP microphone prominent among them. Marcel was still the only journalist with a large, international news service behind him. None of the others, like Reuters or the AP, had agents stationed on Tahiti, so they'd had to buy the story from AFP. It made things simpler for Marcel; he was widely acknowledged by the others as the biggest fish by far in the small pond of Papeete.

Work finally completed, one of the lackeys radioed a message, and as they waited for the President, the reporters jockeyed for position. All except Marcel. He was front and center, and they all knew it. The familiar thrill of chasing a story, absent these last years in the paradise known as the South Pacific, fizzed in his blood once more. Soon, there would be some answers to his questions. Or, just more questions.

A limo pulled up about ten minutes later. They all knew what it meant; it was the same limo they'd seen drive in and park up at the entrance to Nuutania. The President was here, after presumably meeting with Richard Rodgers.

Grollet exited, a giant smile plastered to his face and arm waving to the crowd of journalists and curious residents who'd swelled the crowd. There was some smattered applause, which Grollet acknowledged with even more vigorous waving.

Marcel looked him over as he walked to the podium. Always a handsome man, with blond hair and blue eyes, the years had been kind to Grollet. He was trim, and while not especially tall, he carried himself with a posture of confidence. It made him seem larger than he actually was. His clothes were of the best quality, as befit the President of the country. From his outer appearance, there was nothing to criticize.

But—but, he was just a little too slick for Marcel's taste. Grollet knew just how to turn to be photographed at his best. How to smile at just the right time in order to appear charming and friendly. How to plaster on a smile that never reached his eyes. Oh, he wasn't so different from politicians the world over, Marcel knew that well. Yet, there was just something about the man that didn't sit well with him. Some _souciant_ that there was a much deeper, darker creature lurking behind the insincere smile of Henri Grollet.

Grollet had arrived in front of the microphones. "Thank you so much for joining us today. I have, of course, seen the incredible reports about an unfortunate prisoner, held here at Nuutania, being, in fact, the long missing Richard Rodgers. I came today, to meet with the man himself. You all remember, of course, that I myself was acquainted with Mr. Rodgers on that dreadful voyage."

He paused and flashed one of his giant, fake smiles for the photographers, who clicked away.

"I am happy to announce that the man we had all known as Jean Dupont, is, indeed, Richard Rodgers. Alive and well after all these years. It is quite the tale, but certainly better from his lips than mine. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Richard Rodgers and his lovely mother, the world-famous actress Martha Rodgers."

Applause, much louder and more sustained, accompanied Rodgers walk from the limo to the side of Grollet. Marcel looked the man over carefully. The only photos of Dupont had been of a man with a thick, wild beard, very thin body and deeply tanned. This man was clean shaven, with a fresh haircut. His face certainly appeared to be very similar to Richard Rodgers. He had filled out, after months of regular meals and exercise in the prison yard, though by no means was he soft appearing. Just—healthier. And he was much paler, though that was undoubtedly due to his prolonged incarceration.

Grollet and Rodgers turned to face each other, then slowly shook hands. Both smiling, though to Marcel's practiced eye both appeared fake as hell. Martha Rodgers stood just behind Richard; as soon as Rodgers let go of Grollet's hand he spun around to face his mother and gave her a giant hug and kiss. The smiles this time were genuine, and the photographers ate up the moment of the well-known woman embracing her long lost son. It was a moving moment, and one that would lead many a headline.

Finally, Rodgers approached the microphone.

"Thank you all for being here. Words cannot adequately describe how thrilled I am to be standing in front of you all and no longer standing behind bars back there," he gestured to Nuutania behind him. "It has been a very long and difficult journey, as I'm sure some can imagine. I'd like to thank my mother for never giving up on me, and for taking a chance that I was still alive. Without her coming here, I'm not sure how I would have ever been freed. I'd also like to thank my lawyer, Afaitu Tutomo, for accepting my case, fighting for justice and believing that the truth would set me free. Without him, our fight would have been far harder and far longer."

Tutomo clasped his hand with Rodgers; both men beaming. Marcel noted that they were bona fide smiles, and that both men seemed to naturally like and trust the other. Quite the opposite of what he'd seen with the President. Interesting. Though, these two had worked together, had fought together to free Rodgers. There might be nothing more to it than the comfort of a true friend, as opposed to the discomfort with a relative stranger. Hard to say.

"Thank you as well to President Grollet for taking the steps necessary to free me as soon as possible. I am anxious to find out about all that I've missed and to resume my life back in New York. I know there are several things I have to do before I can get back, but at least now I know I can start the process. With the incredible support of my family and friends, I have no doubt that I'll succeed."

Grollet stepped forward again, before anyone could ask any questions. "I signed the necessary paperwork before travelling here; Mr. Rodgers is officially a free man. And I would like to offer all the assistance of the government to help him by whatever means necessary to resume his life. Any boon or favor is not too large to ask, Mr. Rodgers. The people of French Polynesia stand ready to assist you however we may be able."

"Thank you President Grollet. Now, I'm eager to be able to relax as a free man and catch up with my mother, but I'm sure you all have questions. I can answer a few now, but I'm sure you'll all understand that I'd like nothing more than to leave this place," gesturing back at the prison, "and start enjoying the next phase of my life."

Marcel was the first to ask a question; his right as the most senior journalist, with the largest news organization behind him. After identifying himself and AFP, he asked the question in the front of everyone's minds: "Mr. Rodgers, where have you been?"

"That is an excellent question, Mr. Laurent. The short answer, and the truth, is that I don't know. But that is not what you're really asking, is it? You want to know what happened to me and what I've been doing all these years."

Marcel nodded, acquiescing to the other man's words. There was a lot unknown, and they wanted to know it all. Brief statements would not suffice, but it was a start.

Rick proceeded to tell them the same story he'd told Grollet. It seemed to satisfy most of them, for the time being at least.

"Mr. Rodgers, what are your plans now?" asked one of the local network anchors. That was how far up the chain the story had pushed; the local stations had sent out their anchors, planning nearly wall to wall Richard Rodgers coverage.

"Beyond catching up with my mother? I need to obtain the necessary paperwork, such as passport, etc. to go back home. Since I was apparently declared dead in the States, I'm told that might take a bit."

Some laughter from the news crews met him. He smiled at them widely, letting them know he was just happy to be out. Which was true, but not for the reasons they were thinking about.

"Mr. Rodgers, there was an interview aired last night in the States with a woman who claimed to be your wife. A…Meredith Harper. Who is she?"

Rick's eyes narrowed for a moment. He'd rehearsed how to answer this particularly bothersome question, but he still had a visceral reaction to it.

"I was in a relationship with Ms. Harper, prior to my arrival in French Polynesia eleven years ago. However, I can assure you that we are not married."

"Were you engaged? Why would she say you were married?"

"We were not engaged. I cannot speak for why Ms. Harper has made the statements that she has. I've not seen or heard from her the entire time I've been in the South Pacific, so I really can't comment on what motivation she might have."

"Mr. Rodgers, have you discussed with your lawyer whether you'll be filing suit against the government for wrongful imprisonment? Or if there will be any kind of suit? Given your status, I would imagine you could pursue something for millions of dollars, given that there was potential defamation of character."

Grollet trembled, though not visibly to the crowd. However, it was not unnoticed by Rick. Knowing Grollet was nervous definitely colored his response.

"To be honest, we have not discussed anything like that at all. Our main goal has been my release, which as you know has just been accomplished. Where we go from here has yet to be determined, but I won't rule anything out at this point."

Grollet trembled again. Rick smiled broadly at the crowd, suddenly enjoying himself. He knew exactly what favor he was going to ask for.

"What do you think about all the changes in the world since you've been gone?"

"Well, I haven't had a chance to find out about most of them. I see people talking on these tiny rectangles; I'm told they're cell phones, or smartphones. I remember cell phones being these fairly hefty flip phones or the like. Nothing smart about them. And I've seen laptops; during my trial the lawyers all had them. Nothing like the laptops I remember using. But I can't wait to find out more about how the world has changed. I'm sure it's all for the good, right?"

There was a brief silence as the crowd reflected on how much he'd soon be learning. That it wasn't all for the good. Yet, no one wanted to be responsible to bursting his bubble, even the hardened journalists. The man had just gotten out of jail. Time enough to talk about wars, terrorists and skyscrapers falling victim to passenger planes later.

"Anyway, I'm looking forward to reconnecting with my mom and friends in New York. Thank you all for being here, and if there are further questions or requests, please contact my lawyer, Mr. Tutomo," he said, pointing at Afaitu. He strode back towards the limo, not sure if they would be riding with the President, or if other arrangements had been made.

"Mr. Rodgers, I did mean what I said about asking for favors. Anything we can do to assist you." Henri Grollet had followed him. Glancing back at the others, Rick saw Afaitu was surrounded by a crowd of reporters. Martha had followed Rick as well, and was standing next to him.

"I can think of one thing immediately."

Grollet nodded, waiting.

"My cellmate, Salesi Lotomau. I would like him to be pardoned as well."

Grollet looked at him searchingly. "What kind of crimes did he commit?"

"Just property crimes. Nothing violent."

"You will vouch for him, after his release?"

"Yes, of course."

"Salesi Lotomau. That is not a Tahitian name."

"He is an American citizen as well, from American Samoa."

"Ah, then he will not be staying in French Polynesia after his release?"

Rick understood what was not said. "No. He will likely return to the States with me, although I have not been able to discuss this with him."

"Consider it done, though I would appreciate it if this is not made widely known."

"No problem. When should I expect to see him?"

Grollet gave a wry smile. "Not one to beat around the bush, are you, Mr. Rodgers. I had forgotten this about you."

"Well, it was many years ago, wasn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose it was. He shall be released within the next few days. Is that sufficient?"

"Perfectly."

"Very well, good luck Mr. Rodgers. Let me know if there is anything else I may assist you with."

"I'll be sure to do that."

Grollet entered the limo, and Martha pointed up the parking lot, indicating he should follow her. They walked together to Afaitu's car, located close to the visitors' entrance of the prison.

"Richard, where are we going from here?"

"Let's wait for Afaitu, mother. We need to talk about it together."

"I should call Jim, let him know you're free."

Rick gave her a hard look.

"What, darling? What is it?"

He stared off in the distance for a minute, before swinging his head back to her and pinning her with a hard glare.

"Jim Beckett? How did that happen?"

"How did what happen? How did he become my manager?"

"To start with."

She sighed. "I learned after I found out that you'd been lost at sea that there were others also missing. And one of them was a young woman from New York. When I arrived in Tahiti to look for you, the first time, no one showed up from her family. I was shocked, but then I wondered if they simply didn't know. News was very delayed in reaching us. So, when I went back, after I was unsuccessful in finding you, I decided to seek them out."

"And? Let me guess. He was drunk."

"Richard!"

"Am I wrong?"

"Well, no. But, he lost his wife to violence in January, then lost his only child to a shipwreck in November. The pain; it must have been indescribable."

"He was a drunk well before Kate was shipwrecked. That's part of the reason she was in the South Pacific to begin with. He wasn't there for her. You have no idea what that did to her."

"Actually, I have some idea." At his quizzical look, she continued, "Your writing, Richard. It is very evocative. And may I point out, that if she hadn't come to the South Pacific, you'd likely have never met."

Rick shook his head slightly. "I understand what you're saying, but I like to think if we hadn't met here, we might have met in New York. She was planning on becoming a cop. I'm a mystery writer. Who knows? We might have met under different circumstances."

"Well, nonetheless, we were discussing Jim. He fought so hard for sobriety. I was so proud of him. I'm not sure I would have had the same strength. And, once he was back on his feet, he just couldn't face practicing law anymore. Not without Johanna."

"I suppose I can understand that."

"I was starting to get more interest for roles, so I let him negotiate for me, and he was marvelous. Soon, he was my manager. And I was able to watch he and Celeste slowly learned to trust one another and eventually fall in love."

"Celeste is his new wife?"

"Yes. She was my personal assistant first. Now they own their own management company, but I've always been a priority for them."

"What's she like, this Celeste?" Rick knew the specter of her father remarrying had never occurred to Kate. He was also quite certain that it would not be welcome news.

"Oh, she's very kind, determined, generous and organized. We're good friends. She had a terrible marriage when she was very young; an abusive husband. Once her children were old enough, she tried to leave him. He died in a car wreck that almost claimed her life as well."

Rick's surprise was obvious on his face. He'd heard about the wife from Afaitu, when the lawyer had mentioned that Jim was going to tell her about the fact that Kate was still alive. However, he'd never heard of children. Oh, this was not going to go over well. While Kate had changed dramatically while living with him for so long on their island, in many ways the isolation had allowed her, well both of them really, to stagnate some issues—there was no way to resolve them, as isolated as they were. Her relationship with her father was a prime example of this.

"She has children? How many?"

"Oh, yes. She has two boys, both grown now. Nicholas and Michael. They've both married to lovely young women. Nicholas and Karla have two children, and Michael and Brandy just had a baby about six months ago. Both boys love Jim, and the kids call him Grandpa."

Rick choked when he heard there were grandchildren, then started coughing.

"Richard, are you all right?"

"There's grandkids?"

"Oh, yes. Why? Is there an issue?"

You could say that. "I'm just—concerned about how Kate will react to all this. You have to realize, mother, that for us there are many things that have never changed. As far as she's concerned, her father is still a drunk and her mother was the love of his life. She hasn't had time to see the changes, meet Celeste and her family. There's no adjustment for her, it will all just be dumped on her."

Martha pursed her lips. She wondered if there wasn't something more that he wasn't telling her, but she could see this was going to be a very difficult time for all of them.

Afaitu strolled up at that minute, finally ready to go.

"Ready?"

"More than," Rick replied. He wanted nothing more than to get away from the sight of Nuutania.

They piled in, Martha sitting in the back so that her son could enjoy the view of Papeete as they drove away from the prison.

After they'd driven halfway back to the downtown area, Rick asked Afaitu about the next steps and explained that he'd requested Salesi's release.

"He is trustworthy?"

"Yes, very. He is an honorable man, caught up in unfortunate circumstances. I'm not sure I would have made it through my incarceration without him."

"Well, my plan for now was to take you back to the hotel that Martha is staying at. She has a suite, so you'll have a room with her."

"How do we start looking for Kate? Can we obtain overhead pictures of the ocean somehow? I'm sure if I could see the island, I would know it. Or at least narrow it down to likely candidates."

"I think if we were to request overhead pictures of the ocean, that the jig would be up. There's no reason for you to need to find the island, other than you're looking for Kate."

"Maybe a library?"

"Do you really think a man just released from prison and declared dead for ten years would spend much time in a library? No, it is not reasonable and would call undue attention to what you're doing. You cannot afford this. However, I think I may have a solution: Google."

Rick looked at him like he was crazy. "Google? What's a google?"

Afaitu flicked a glance at him before returning his attention back to the road. "You don't know what Google is?"

"Uh, no. It sounds ridiculous."

Afaitu sighed. "This is going to be a rough transition. There's so much, and we have no time." He sighed again, then looked hopefully at Martha in the rear view mirror.

"Oh, no, darling. Don't look at me. I'm an actress."

Afaitu glanced back at Rick, who was now looking at him quite expectantly. Sighing again, he tried to explain. "Listen, I'm a lawyer, though I have learned a lot about computers. Jim Beckett seems pretty comfortable with technology, as well. Maybe he could help explain it. But, basically, Google is a giant search engine. Probably the largest and most accurate in the world."

"Search engine? How does that help us? Do we just search for uninhabited islands?"

"It's probably not that easy, as I doubt there's much information about deserted rocks in the South Pacific, even as big as the internet is. However, there's Google maps."

"And Google maps is…..?"

"It shows all of the earth, using satellite imagery. You can zoom in and see buildings and everything."

Rick got very excited. "You're kidding me! There's that many satellites? Even for the South Pacific? It sounds too good to be true! Where do we find these maps?"

"You just go to the google website on any computer, though you want a good connection as the bandwidth required for viewing the images is high. Loading them on a slow connection would be torture."

"You do realize I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, don't you?"

"All I'm saying is you can view them on any computer, as long as the connection to the world wide web is a fast one. But, I have to caution you, the high resolution satellite maps are generally for only habited places. Most of the islands that are uninhabited fall into areas where they have poor detail, simply because no one cares if you can see a palm tree on an uninhabited island. There's no demand for it. But, you should be able to see the overall shape of the island and decide if it fits your concept of yours, at least by shape."

"Will I be able to tell if there is a lake in the interior?"

"Maybe, depending on the size of the lake."

"Then, what are we waiting for? This sounds perfect."

"That's what we'll do at the hotel. It has Wi-Fi and if we use an IP proxy, like usual, I don't think they'll be able to tell what we're doing, even if they try to track us. The hotel is too big. I'll fire up my laptop too and search some random sites as well. Lastly, I must caution you. We've been gone from the hotel all day. If I were you, I would not speak of anything sensitive out loud. We can talk in general, pretend as we've been doing today. But I wouldn't put it past them to have bugged the room."

Martha gasped. "Do you really…?"

Rick was quick to answer. "Yes, mother. I wouldn't doubt it for a second. But, I wouldn't write things on paper either. It's still a tangible trail, unless we can destroy it all somehow. Couldn't we type questions on the laptop, then delete the document?"

"That is the best idea, Rick. And now we have a plan."

Rick smiled, looking out the car window as they approached the hotel. They had a plan. A plan to get her back. It was beginning.

* * *

**Appreciate any thoughts….**


	39. Chapter 39: A Surfeit of Trouble

**This chapter is dedicated to bluedaisy05. Love all the reviews you leave me, and so glad you're enjoying the story. I feel very fortunate to have such a loyal readership. You all keep me going, despite a very challenging couple of weeks at work. Thank you for everything.**

* * *

April, 2010

Rick watched, fascinated as Afaitu opened up his and Martha's laptops and turned them on. They were so thin, and were ready to go much faster than he'd anticipated. Afaitu then showed him how to connect via Wi-Fi to the web. He'd never heard of Wi-Fi before; apparently you didn't need to have anything plugged into the computer! It was like magic, and completely fascinating though he didn't understand the technology at all.

Next, Afaitu showed him how to use the IP proxy program that was loaded on both computers. This was to ensure anyone tracking IP addresses in French Polynesia wouldn't see them. Again, Rick didn't understand, but he could follow directions. Afaitu typed out the steps for him in a fresh Word document. Now, Word was a program he remembered, though the version that Afaitu had opened was far different than the one Rick had used.

All of their actions were done while trying to keep up an inane conversation for anyone choosing to listen in. Rick hoped that they were simply being paranoid, but he wouldn't risk Kate's life on it. Not now. Not when they were so close.

Turning on a music program to further obfuscate their actions, Afaitu opened up Google and showed Rick silently how easy it was to use. He then showed him how to go to Google maps. Rick couldn't believe it when it opened to their very hotel, until Afaitu typed out an explanation about Global Positioning Satellites, or GPS. Rick's head started hurting; there was so much new to learn. If only they'd had access to this GPS stuff when they were in the _Iriata_. They'd never have been lost.

When Afaitu zoomed out and Rick saw the large swath of blue surrounding the white that demarcated Tahiti, he was excited. However, he nearly fell off the couch he was sitting on when Afaitu toggled the map to show the satellite imaging. It was incredible. Grabbing the computer, Rick soon found Raivavae. He then started moving from that island in a tightly spiraling circle. Their island had to be somewhere in that relative vicinity.

He soon appreciated Afaitu's remarks about the low quality of the images in areas without human habitation. It was impossible to zoom in far, as the image quality degraded rapidly. Afaitu wrote something down about pixilation. Rick had no idea what that meant. After an hour, he had written down several coordinates of places that could be what he was looking for. None of them popped, in particular. But with such poor resolution, he couldn't be sure. Not wanting to rule anything out, he'd typed them on a separate document and continued on.

"Richard, what shall we do about dinner?" his mother interrupted.

Rick grimaced. He had no interest in eating. Not until he finished his search. Not until he found it. "I don't care, mother. Room service?" He typed furiously on the open word document that he didn't want to leave the search.

"I just thought perhaps you might want to try a restaurant. You've been locked up for so long, and before that without regular meals, I'm sure."

Rick pressed his lips together tightly. He knew she just wanted the best for him, but that meant finding Kate. Nothing else mattered. "I'm nervous that there might be a lot of press or attention if we try to go to a restaurant. And I'm used to pretty bland food from the prison. Anything very high quality would be wasted on me."

He typed: _I'm not leaving. Must find it_.

Martha sighed, then went to find the room service menu. It was a high quality hotel, so they assuredly had nice food. She'd known it was unlikely that Richard would want to postpone searching for Katie, but surely he'd want to spend a bit of time with his mother? She worried he was driving himself too hard and wanted to take care of him. What she hadn't counted on was his incredible focus—he'd never had such ability when she'd known him.

Rick continued looking carefully for another fifteen minutes when he suddenly gave an audible gasp. He'd found an island, isolated from all others, that lay in the rough triangle between Pitcairn Islands, the Marquesans, and the Australs. It was further to the east and north than he would have ever thought. It was clearly not an atoll, but appeared to have a small lake in the middle. The resolution was poor, to say the least, but he just knew. It was their island. No doubt.

Catching Afaitu's attention, he showed him the island on the screen. Afaitu wrote down the coordinates and nodded. Rick was desperate to know what was next, but knew they couldn't talk about it in the hotel room.

"I'm feeling like I'd like a walk outside. Afaitu, would you care to join me? You can point out interesting landmarks."

"But, Richard, the food is on its way," Martha protested.

"Mother, we won't go far. After all, I don't want to risk getting mobbed. I just feel like some fresh air. Until this morning, I couldn't just stroll outside whenever I felt like it. It's a novel idea to me."

"I have my phone, Martha. Just call me or text me when the food arrives, and we'll be right back."

Martha nodded, then laughed a bit as she heard Richard asking Afaitu what texting was. Her smile faded as she considered all he, and Katie, had yet to learn. It was a daunting task. One in which they would learn of several tragedies that had shaken the world. They might just wish that their simple life on the desert island had never been interrupted.

* * *

Walking down the hallway, Afaitu spoke first. "We don't have to actually leave the hotel. We could go down to the gym; there's likely no one there and it certainly won't be bugged."

"Will it be suspicious if we don't leave?"

"No, we could run by the gift shop or something and say you got distracted."

Agreeing to try the gym, they took the elevator down to that level. Finding it indeed empty, Afaitu motioned him in. With the door closed, Rick felt as safe as he had since this whole mess had started.

"That's the island. I'm sure of it. What's the next step? When can we leave?"

"Slow down, Rick. We'll need to get a boat, someone trustworthy."

"Do you have any ideas for that?"

"Actually, I do. Ari'i."

"Ari'i? That's a great idea. I always looked up to him. Where is he?"

"Tamahere told me he's been a captain of his own ship for years. His home port is in the Marquesas. He doesn't spend much time in the Societies, as he apparently has always blamed Grollet for what happened to Anapa."

"With good reason. Will he do it?"

"Yes."

Rick looked up at him, thrown by the quick affirmative.

"I already asked him."

"What? When?"

"When I knew we were close to getting you out. I wanted to be sure he'd be available for you when you found the island. I was sure it wouldn't take you long with Google maps. He gave me a couple names of other trustworthy captains just in case it didn't work to use him, but so far no one from the government has looked twice at him, as far as we can tell."

"Where is he?"

"He's actually docked now at Mo'orea. I wanted to keep him away from Tahiti. He's been catching up with Tamahere. He doesn't know the details; we haven't shared them with him, beyond the fact that you're alive. But he wants to help you, however he can."

Rick still remembered the camaraderie of his ship mates during those halcyon days when his biggest worry was loading cargo properly. It was amazing how they had stepped forward to help him so much in his time of need. Without Tamahere, he'd still be in jail. Now, without Ari'i, he'd have trouble reaching Kate without hiring a boat and having to blindly trust the crew. He knew, in his marrow, that he could trust Ari'i.

"What do we do after we rescue Kate?" he asked the lawyer. All he wanted was to make sure she was still alive, that she was ok, but the time after they found her would still be fraught with danger.

"I'd recommend that we take her someplace safe until we can announce to the world that she's alive. Something like we did with you."

"So, not Tahiti."

"No, not Tahiti. I'd suggest Mo'orea, and my home, but it's so darn close to Tahiti. It's probably not safe. Not for something like this. Perhaps Ari'i would hide her."

Rick nodded. It could work. They could get Ari'i to take him to the island, find Kate and then offer exile far enough away from the capital until they were ready to reveal her existence.

"I'm assuming a press conference, like the one we had with me?"

"Maybe, though yours worked because we could get people there. On a remote island, that won't be an option."

"Perhaps we could reach out and offer an exclusive to some interested news show. Like _60 Minutes_. Or that Marcel Laurent of the AFP. He seemed pretty interested and I know he's well respected."

"That would probably be our best bet," Afaitu mused. "I'm assuming you'll be going with Ari'i?"

Rick glared at Afaitu. This was a question? "Of course I'm going. I can barely breathe from minute to minute, not knowing. Is she ok? Hurt? Does she think I'm dead? If people show up without me, she'll assume the worst. No, I'm going."

Afaitu had known this would be the answer. Now they had to come up with some excuse as to why Rick was suddenly missing from Tahiti. Make all the necessary plans for the rescue mission and the subsequent exile. There was a lot to accomplish in the next few hours. Especially since Afaitu knew he'd have a fight on his hands if he suggested they wait, unless it was for a very good reason.

* * *

The two men spent quite a lot more time discussing the nuances of the rescue mission. Martha's text announcing the food had arrived was initially ignored in favor of their…thorough…discussion.

Martha noticed Afaitu appeared a little pale when the two returned, but in the process of getting them to sit down and eat, she forgot to ask about his discomfiture.

Rick enjoyed the meal. It was light years beyond any of the soylent garbage found at Nuutania. However, his true enjoyment came from having a plan. The biggest question now? Would he have the patience to wait during the time it took for all their stratagems to fall into place?

One of their biggest obstacles was to explain his absence from Tahiti for some days.

"I think we could explain a visit to Mo'orea. That's where I live. And we could announce that Tamahere wanted to meet with you. The press has been searching for him, unsuccessfully I might add. But it would make sense; that would even explain Ari'i's presence on the island, if anyone was curious." Afaitu remarked. The three of them were taking another stroll. They'd loudly discussed walking to the local shops for some after dinner browsing and then, having accomplished that task, were now quietly discussing their plans out on the pool deck. No one was swimming at this time of night, so they had the place to themselves.

"That would explain a visit, but it will take a couple days to get to the island, then more to get to the Marquesas. And once I'm with her, I won't leave her again."

Afaitu huffed. He'd known it would be the most likely scenario, but it was a logistical nightmare.

"Listen, it's getting late. I'm tired; you must be exhausted. Let's sleep on it. The provisioning and purchasing of the equipment will take a day—you know that. Maybe we'll think better in the morning." Afaitu stretched, then looked at Rick's dejected posture. "We'll figure it out, Rick. You'll see her soon, and everything else just needs to be worked out. Go to sleep. You can't help her if you're exhausted."

On that note, he left. Martha and Rick returned to the suite, speaking in desultory tones about her career success, what she'd done with Rick's stuff, and his post-mortem profitability. As he prepared for the night, he prayed that the next day would dawn to reveal answers to their problems. Solutions that would allow him to embark on the most important mission of his life. He had no idea that the answer to his problems, or the persons who could help, were in the air at that very moment. Winging their way to him, with no idea of their coming role, or the fact that he would loathe having to rely on them.

* * *

Rick woke early. It was a long held habit at this point. Necessary for his job on a boat; necessary for all the work they had to do to survive; necessary to be safe in a prison full of potential enemies. One day of freedom wouldn't alter his sleep habits. Even if it could have, the pull of seeking and finding Kate was far too strong for mere slumber. Even if the mattress and sheets were the nicest he'd slept on for…over eleven years. His thoughts turned once more to Kate, to _them_, wondering what it'd be like to make love to her on something this luxurious. And what she'd say about sleeping on something so soft after years of dried grasses and chicken feathers substituting for box springs and polyurethane foam.

He found tears pricking his eyes as he thought of her. The ache to see her again had become a physical agony, now that he was so close to realizing his goal. Before he could subside into a full sobbing mess over what awaited him on that island-whether things could truly be fine after so many months of being without him-he jumped up, showered, shaved and dressed in an efficient time. Prison taught you not to mess around.

It was nearing seven. He didn't expect his mother to be up for another few hours. Afaitu was staying at the same hotel, though on a lower floor. He didn't know if the lawyer was an early riser or not. Deciding to eat, he considered ordering room service again and spending the time alone on the computer. However, he was so focused on Kate, he didn't think he'd want to do more than stare at the island on the map program. Thus, he found himself in the hotel's restaurant twenty minutes later, perusing the menu.

He'd been seated near the half wall that separated the restaurant from the hotel lobby. It hadn't registered as an issue until a couple of reporters wandered up and addressed him as he sipped his orange juice and tried to decipher the French newspaper. The headline pictures were easy to understand. It was him, being hugged by his mother. It was actually a nice photo of the two of them.

Politely declining an interview at the moment, he asked for a few hours. There was a large contingent of press camped out beyond the doors, but these few had somehow snuck past the security guards. Luckily, they were equally polite, agreeing to wait. He sighed, not looking forward to more questions he'd just have to sidestep and dance around, but it'd be worth the press. They were playing an invaluable role in his quest for freedom, and now for Kate.

His waitress brought out his eggs, pancakes and bacon at the same time a stir was seen amongst the waiting press outside. He didn't notice the disturbance-too busy tucking in to his meal. However, it was hard to miss the hordes of reporters that entered the lobby, overwhelming the guards. They were moving slowly across the large entryway, making their way towards the restaurant. They were in a large circle, so he couldn't see the object of their interest as they surrounded him or her. His seated position didn't help. He thought about standing, curious to see what celebrity they had captured, but thought better of it. He had no desire to be swept up in the throng or noticed more than he already had been.

Turning his attention once more to his meal, he resumed eating. When a voice rang out, penetrating the glass and setting it to oscillating at a hertz familiar but unwelcome, he dropped his fork with a clatter.

"Oh, Kitten, there you are."

Meredith stepped out of the pack of adoring press and sashayed her way to his table, the incessant clicks of the shutters making sure the moment was captured for eternity.

* * *

Rick wasn't sure how he avoided the need for defibrillation after the shock of seeing Meredith trap him in a restaurant, then proceed to drape herself on him in front of the world's press, before he came to his senses and fled the scene.

The red-haired devil had followed him, which was why they were now fighting in the elevator lobby on the floor of his suite.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he hissed.

"Why wouldn't I want to come see my long lost husband?" she asked, trying to put her right hand on his chest before he captured her wrist and prevented her from touching him any further.

"Meredith, we are _not_, nor have we _ever_ been married. What game are you playing at here?"

"Richard, you _know_ how much you meant to me. And _I_ know for a fact that I meant a lot to you," she purred. "What better time for us to go back to what we had?"

"What we…? What we _had,_ Meredith, was a few months of fun followed by many weeks of agony. We were _over_, before I left. I even asked you to come with me, and you refused."

"Yes, well, that was then. I _know_ you wanted to marry me."

He looked at her incredulously. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"I found the ring when Martha let me in the old apartment to make sure I had everything. I knew you meant it for me, so I took it and cherished it. I thought you were dead, but now I know you lived—for me." Holding her left hand up, she flashed the ring he'd bought so many years before. He looked on in horror, all the blood draining from his face. This was an absolute nightmare.

As Rick stared at her, the elevator door dinged, and into the fray walked Afaitu. Puzzled as he was to find Rick standing there with a strange red head, he was even more puzzled when Rick basically ignored him to keep talking to the younger woman.

"You lost your chance with me when you got into bed with your director. Yes, I was thinking about marrying you, for the baby. It killed me when we lost it. But, I know now that we would never have lasted. I was going to propose for all the wrong reasons. You'd have been bored within months. It was never meant to be, Meredith."

"Surely you're joking, Richard. I didn't fly all this way to be rejected. Doesn't the fact that I came to find you as soon as I got off the plane show how committed I am to this, to us?"

"I'm sure the press coverage has nothing to do with your actions."

"Well, a little attention never hurts, Richard. And your image could do with a little glamor. I mean, some of the pictures of you look so scruffy. And the clothes!" she artfully shuddered.

"I was adrift on a boat," he growled. "I wasn't really thinking about how scruffy I was or the state of my clothing."

"Yes, well, clearly you need more help than your mother is capable of providing." She looked him up and down meaningfully. He was dressed in clothes that were admittedly baggy on him—the ones that his mother had picked up which hadn't fit as well. He hadn't had a chance to go shopping, though that was on the agenda for the day. Clothes for now and for his trip to rescue Kate. He wished again that it wouldn't look suspicious buying clothes that weren't in his size, or gender. But he knew it would be. Time enough to do that once they'd returned to Ari'i's island.

Afaitu was watching the two of them like it was a ping pong match. He'd quickly figured out that this woman was Meredith, the one who'd been claiming to be married to Rick. His client was clearly angry about her presence, and Afaitu knew why. However, he also saw a solution to some of their problems.

"I don't need any of _your_ help, Meredith. I'm not mar.."

"Rick!" interrupted Afaitu, "a moment of your time please." He grabbed Rick's arm and started dragging him with him down the hall for some privacy.

"Who is this?" Meredith asked, looking at the stranger with interest. She got no answer, as Rick had already retreated too far down the hall to hear her. Sighing, she tapped her foot while the two men whispered. It was interesting, well, marginally, that Rick seemed to be arguing with the man—and losing. A few minutes later, Rick returned with a surlier attitude than before—but with much better manners.

"Meredith Harper, this is Afaitu Tutomo. He's my lawyer. Afaitu, this is Meredith Harper. My….my…"

"His fiancée," she said brightly, holding a hand out.

"_Not_ my fiancée." Rick said, heatedly.

A sharp look from Afaitu made him add to his statement.

"She's a….she's a…good friend of mine from back home."

"Good friend? I'm more than that, Richard." She lifted her left hand again. Rick felt like he was going to pass out. Unconsciously, his hand sought his wedding ring hanging from the cord around his neck. Afaitu noticed the movement and gave him a sharp kick to the shins.

"Meredith, have you already checked into the hotel? Perhaps that should be the next order of business?" Afaitu smoothed over Rick's muteness. He knew this was a struggle for his client, but it was necessary.

"Checked in? No, silly, I'm going to be staying with Richard."

Afaitu spoke before Rick had a chance to erupt.

"Oh, that's not possible, I'm afraid. You see, Rick's mother is staying with him. It's been so many years for them, I'm sure you understand. We'll get you checked in with your own room. And did I mention how many press agents were begging to talk to me today? It's truly remarkable."

Afaitu held out his arm for her to take. The mention of press had captured all of her interest, so she was more than willing to go with him.

"We'll see you in a few minutes, Rick," Afaitu looked at him meaningfully. Hopefully, he'd pull it together.

The plan, cobbled together in a hallway, was to use both Martha and Meredith as smokescreens for Rick's absence. Martha was a pro with the press, given all her long years of experience. Meredith, while not an adept, was eager to have the attention. She'd hopefully entertain them enough that they wouldn't miss Rick quite as much. It wasn't a complete plan, but it was more than they'd had twenty minutes ago.

Rick stood, motionless, as they disappeared into an elevator car. Even after the doors had slid closed, he couldn't bring himself to move. '_What just happened?_' he wondered. Afaitu thought she would be a boon to their efforts. He just hoped the price wasn't too high to pay.

Just as he was about to turn and go find his mother, the elevator bank dinged again for an arriving car. It was far too soon for it to be Meredith, but perhaps Afaitu was returning to speak to him in private for further plans?

He shouldn't have been surprised, but honestly, he was. He simply thought he'd been given enough challenges, in the form of a shipwreck, the odious Grollet, unjust imprisonment, Meredith, and, most of all, forced separation from the woman he loved. It seemed he was wrong, once again, however. For the when the elevator doors opened and discharged its passengers, he found himself standing face to face with none other than Gina Cowell and Paula Haas.

* * *

**Ah, poor Rick. He has a surfeit of women to deal with. **

**There have been questions wondering why I spend several chapters in 2010 and not all the time with Kate and Rick. As with the entire fic, it will jump back and forth. We'll certainly be returning back to the island, for many chapters, but when events in 2010 fit into the pattern, we return to that time. Kate does need to be rescued, after all. Otherwise, there is no point to the whole story. **

**Technology changed tremendously in the 2000s. Which is one of the reasons I chose to have them stranded for 10 years. It's amazing what they missed out on. Google was founded in 1998, but was not widely known until 2000 at least. Wi-Fi became popular in 2001. Texting between two different cell phone carriers was not even possible until 1999; its popularity would soon explode, but not until after our hero and heroine disappeared. GPS was first a U.S. military technology developed in 1973; the positioning satellites were aimed to that purpose. President Reagan declared the intention of allowing free civilian use in 1983 after the USSR shot down Korean Air flight 007, killing 269 people, for straying accidentally into Soviet airspace. It took many years for enough satellites to be launched, and initially the signal for non-military use was intentionally degraded (called Selective Availability) so that an error of up to 100 meters was possible. In 2000, President Clinton ordered that Selective Availability be eliminated. GPS is now obviously a widespread application, and has become the de facto navigation system for marine traffic. **


	40. Chapter 40: A Plan Takes Shape

**This chapter is dedicated to wanderlust international. Every time I post a new update, I get a PM from wanderlust, with many salient questions and kind comments. I've really enjoyed our correspondence, and hope to continue receiving lots of PMs in the future.**

* * *

April, 2010

He stood, paralyzed and in shock once more, as yet two more troublesome women from his former life strolled towards him.

"Ricky!" sounded Paula's thick, nasal New York accent.

"Hello, Rick," Gina said, ever more refined and soft spoken.

Rick stood, mouth agape. He couldn't process what was happening. He'd gone from being alone, friendless, a few months ago to having a surfeit of friends. Or people who thought they were. He'd hoped he could simply walk out of prison, find their island somehow, then rescue Kate. He'd never given much thought to the other people who orbited him at times.

"Surprised to see us, Ricky?" Paula grinned. "I can't believe you're alive!" That was all the warning he had before she'd launched herself into his arms.

"It's—it's great to see you, too, Paula," he finally managed.

She released him abruptly, then hit him—hard—on the nearest shoulder.

"Ow! What was that for?" he exclaimed.

She hit him twice more, before he moved out of range and she sniffed back some tears. "For makin' us think you were dead. I _cried_ over you, Ricky. Ruined my makeup several times."

"I'm…sorry? I didn't do it on purpose, you know."

"I know, Ricky. I'm just so glad you're back." She was wiping her eyes again. Gina just stood there. She looked happy to see him too, but he was pretty sure she wouldn't hit him, unlike Paula.

"Listen, I have no idea why you two are here, but this is probably not the place for a reunion. I've already caused enough of a scene, pretty sure the neighbors might complain."

"Where ya stayin', Ricky?"

"Uh, with my mother. There's a suite just down the hall," he started to turn, show them, when the elevators chimed once more. His Pavlovian response was to turn and face them. He braced himself for whatever level of Hell this door would reveal.

Gina and Paula had already moved to take his arms, confident he'd be walking them to his suite and inviting them in for a mini-reunion. They had flown hours to be with him, after all.

Thus, when Afaitu stepped off the elevator—alone, thank God, noted Rick—it was to the sight of two more strange women surrounding his client. And these two were hanging off his arms, so they clearly knew him.

Raising his eyebrows in surprise, Afaitu could only think to ask one question. "More wives or fiancées, Rick?"

"You _know_ none of them are _my_ wife, or my fiancée," Rick hissed. Gina looked at him with a penetrating stare, puzzled by the emphasis on the word 'my'.

"I know they aren't, but you do seem to draw women to you. Maybe it's the fresh from prison smell," Afaitu mused. "Though this never happens to me after I visit there."

"Who else is here, Ricky? Oh, I know. He's talkin' about that red haired bimbo that was on the same flight as us."

"These are friends from home. Gina Cowell was my publisher, Paula Haas my book agent," he explained, indicating each woman in turn and introducing his lawyer to them.

"We were just about to go to the suite, talk properly, when you arrived on the floor. What'd you do with Meredith?"

"Ms. Harper is settling into her room, but I'm quite sure she'll be up soon. I let slip that we're planning a press conference this morning."

"We are?" Seeing the man's nod, Rick sighed. He motioned for Gina and Paula to proceed down the hall, while he and Afaitu followed behind them.

Seeing the other man's raised eyebrows once more, he exclaimed, "They're just friends. I've never been involved with either of them, and certainly never will. You know I have one thing on my mind."

"I do know, and I've seen your single-mindedness on the subject. However, I'm beginning to wonder if you had any male friends in the States," the lawyer said as he walked into the suite.

Rick swore, then followed the annoying man. Gina and Paula were greeting Martha, who'd apparently met them at the door, having heard some commotion in the hallway.

Once everyone was in the suite and settled into a seat, Rick asked the question foremost in his mind. "What are you two doing here?"

"Well, we saw the news that you were alive. It was hard to believe, but when we saw the video of you and your mom, we knew we had to get here," Gina explained.

"Yes, but…why?" Rick wondered.

"Ricky, you didn't _listen_ to us all those years ago, and look what happened. We figured we'd better get over here to keep you out of more trouble."

Rick hadn't watched where he'd sat down. As it turns out, it was within one elbow's distance from his lawyer. Just as Rick opened his mouth to tell Paula that he was perfectly capable of handling his own life without any interference from her or Gina, he got a sharp ribful of Afaitu's bony arm. All he managed was an "oomph".

"That is so thoughtful of you two ladies. I never knew my client was so rich in the caring women department."

"Yeah, well, we definitely care about the big oaf. Ricky, I'll bet you didn't know your first Derrick Storm book went to number one the day it was released!"

"And what day was that?" Rick asked darkly. "Did you wait until after I'd been declared lost at sea? Or was I still just missing?"

Gina and Paula looked at him with twin expressions of horror, while his mother gasped, "Richard! Manners!"

"Ladies, if you'll excuse Rick and me for a minute? I need to consult him on some important matters, but I'll have him back shortly."

Afaitu's hand on his elbow felt like a piece of iron had been welded to his arm. He allowed himself to be propelled forward, back out the door and into their new favorite place to talk, the area in front of the elevators.

"Have you lost your mind? I'm sorry, but I thought you wanted to recover Kate."

Rick looked up angrily and made a slashing motion with his arm. "_Don't_ start," he warned.

"Fine. But you're skirting dangerously close to throwing away a golden opportunity."

Rick was stalking back and forth in front of him now, eyes hard, though his glares were given to the fancy wallpaper lining the area and not to his lawyer.

Afaitu paused, thinking for a minute, then continued in a safer vein. "I thought you wanted to get her to safety. I clearly was misinformed and was hoping you'd tell me what the new plan is to be?" As he spoke, he reached out and arrested Rick's march, holding his arm loosely. His client was so agitated, he wanted to make sure Rick was actually listening to him.

"That's _all_ I want. I don't need or _want_ these other people trying to use me for their own purposes."

"I see. So, the danger to Kate has been resolved? You hadn't told me you'd taken care of it."

"You know I haven't. She's still in grave danger." Rick scowled. What the hell was Afaitu playing at?

"Then why in the world are you trying to alienate people that could help you? We do not have enough manpower as it stands to hide your disappearance. Yet, when not one, not two, but three people show up to support you, you act as though you don't need them here. _Think_, man. You're letting your annoyance at them interfere with the true mission."

Rick pulled angrily out of Afaitu's grasp, then paced anxiously again in front of the man.

"How can they help us?"

"You're planning on leaving tomorrow and will be gone for many days. Don't you think there will be questions about your absence? We can use them as smokescreens. Wasn't your reputation before you left New York that of a ladies man?"

"Yes, but I changed. Once I came here, met Anapa, I learned what it really meant to be a man. I'm a different person."

"I know that. You know that. Kate knows that. But the world doesn't know that, Rick. Just think: you've got three lovely ladies who've shown up looking for you. What say you disappear trying to avoid them? They'd eat it up. Playboy found alive and has three vixens fighting over him."

"Do you think Gina and Paula will go along with it? I mean, Meredith, we don't even have to ask. But that's not why Gina and Paula are here."

"I'm not sure we need to tell them. But, do you trust them?"

Rick thought for a few minutes. He did trust them, to a degree. They'd always had his back, but he knew Gina was all business. She had no interest in him romantically. To ask her to pretend to do so would take some explanation. Same with Paula.

However, he didn't trust them implicitly. "What if we tell them there is something important that I need to do, and that it has to be in secret? I think I could convince them, without resorting to telling them about Kate. I may have to promise them the rights to the book, which I'm sure they're expecting me to write."

"You've already started."

"That was to get people to help, to understand what was happening."

"But it reads like a novel. It would be a compelling story. People would buy it."

"I can't promise anything until I talk to Kate about it. She's a private person."

"I'm sure she is, but Rick, she can't hide from this. This story is going to explode once people find out about her. It's big enough with just you. The world will know Katherine Beckett Rodgers' name. The question is whether it will be your story they hear or someone else's version."

Rick paced some more, thinking furiously. "You're right, you're right. I'll talk to Gina and Paula, but I won't tell them everything. Just enough for them to cooperate."

At that moment he heard another ding, and Meredith sauntered out.

"Kitten, there you are. Now, where were we?" She grabbed his arm and gave him what he supposed she thought was a loving look.

Rick was developing an eye tic that appeared whenever the damn elevators chimed.

* * *

The air in the suite cooled considerably when Meredith waltzed her way inside. All four women knew each other, though not well. Neither Gina nor Paula was inclined to like Meredith; they blamed her in part for Rick's flight from New York, though they didn't know the real reasons why. Martha had even more censure to place at the feet of her son's ex-girlfriend.

Meredith didn't like the two newcomers simply because they were there. They'd been on the same flight as she, which seemed suspicious to her. Her motive was to land Rick once again in her bed; she suspected that every other single woman who would drop everything and fly across the world would have the same motivation.

Watching the jockeying for Rick's attention, Afaitu was satisfied that they could sell the story. Without any prompting they were clearly at odds with each other. It could only get better with Paula and Gina fully on board.

Afaitu took the lead, discussing the press conference that morning. It was to be in the conference room of the hotel. More press had arrived with the new flights that morning. Afaitu asked Martha and all three women to attend. Gina raised her eyebrows in surprise at this, but Meredith and Paula were happy to oblige.

Rick knew he had to do some shopping at some point, so he made sure to ask his mother for help that afternoon. The other women decided to spend the afternoon napping, as they'd all been on the redeye. Rick agreed to meet them all for dinner.

The next thing they needed to do was to recruit Gina and Paula for their little sleight of hand. Looking at Afaitu meaningfully, Rick nodded at Meredith. She needed to be distracted away, as she would never allow Rick to walk out of the door alone with the other two women.

"Ms. Harper, I was wondering if I could pick your brain, so to speak." Afaitu requested, standing up.

Meredith sat up, immediately interested.

"I have very little experience with press conferences, you see. I need to go over the seating charts and the priority for the press, but I'm really not familiar with a lot of the international press corps. I hoped you could assist me, with your extensive knowledge."

Martha choked, despite the fact that she wasn't drinking anything. Rick knew he needed to distract her before she said something to interfere with Meredith's removal.

"Mother, would you like a drink of something?"

"Yes, and make it stiff," she muttered.

"It's awfully early for alcohol, mother."

"Oh, Richard, it's five o'clock somewhere," she muttered. "Could I speak to you a minute, darling?"

They stepped into the kitchen, where Martha leaned close and whispered into his ear, "What is going on?"

Rick loudly asked her, "What would you like?" then whispered, "I'll explain later, but Afaitu is trying to get Meredith out of here so I can speak to Gina and Paula alone."

"I guess just a nice juice would be fine, darling," she added, before whispering, "is that why he's asking that two bit actress for help and not me?"

"Ok, coming right up." Leaning forward he opened the fridge and found some orange juice within. "Yes, just play along. I'll explain later. But it's important," he breathed in her ear.

"All right, darling. Looking forward to it."

When they returned to the seating area, Afaitu and Meredith were just stepping out the door. Afaitu tapped his watch, then held up three fingers followed by a zero symbol. Rick knew he had thirty minutes to accomplish his goal.

As the door closed, both Gina and Paula started to complain vociferously about Meredith. Rick held up his hand in a commanding fashion. Commanding was not a side of him they had ever been used to seeing; it worked well.

"Gina, Paula, would you mind taking a little walk with me? I'd like to get out of this hotel room for a bit."

"Ricky, this hotel room is gigantic. Whadya' need to take a walk for?"

"Please, Paula. Humor me."

They both nodded, and Rick gave his mother a quick kiss and a loud goodbye.

They walked down to the elevators, where Rick felt his blood pressure rising logarithmically.

"Let's go down to the conference room level, wander around a bit." He hoped they'd find an open conference room, where they'd be away from listening ears.

Fortune smiled on them, and they were soon seated at a small table in an empty room.

"Rick, what is going on? I know you, and I know there is more to this business with Meredith than meets the eye. You broke up with her, then came here. Why are you letting her hang around now and tell people you're married?" Gina was to the point, as expected.

Looking both of them in the eye, Rick made sure they could see how serious and sincere his body language and words were to them. Again, not used to this from him, it made them both pay close attention to him.

"Gina, you're right. There is more to my story than what's on the surface."

"More than the fact that you were shipwrecked and survived for years alone, then were imprisoned? Boy, Ricky, I shudder to think what it might be."

"Well, Paula, I can't tell you guys the full story. But, I can say that it's big. Important. And there are people who don't want it to be told."

Paula gasped, hand to mouth, while Gina exclaimed, "Are you in danger, Rick?"

"There _is_ danger, it _is_ life or death," he said, pouring truth into his words. It was not missed by either woman. "I need to ask you both a favor, though you may not like it much."

"Anything, Ricky," responded Paula immediately, while at the same time Gina declared, "Whatever you need."

"Well, I need to disappear for a few days. I'm not sure how long I'll be gone, but it's absolutely necessary that I go. Afaitu and I weren't sure how we'd explain that I was missing to the press, but when Meredith and then you both arrived, we thought we'd lucked into a plan."

"And just what does this plan consist of, Richard Edgar Castle?" Gina queried.

Rick proceeded to explain it to them. Neither was too impressed with it, but when they saw how important it was to Rick, they decided to agree. It didn't hurt that they learned that Meredith wasn't to know the plan.

"You'll give us first rights to any book you write? And let us know what's really been going on?" Gina asked.

"Believe me, Gina; you'll know all of it. And, _if_ I write a book, which is not a given, you will have first dibs at it. It's the least I can do for all you've done and will do for me."

* * *

Rick sat down at the table in front of the press. It was on a raised platform, so he was able to see past the initial rows. It looked like a veritable sea of press. He couldn't believe there was this much interest in anything he had to say.

Afaitu was to his right side, Martha to his left. Meredith, much to her dismay, was seated in the front row next to Gina and Paula. They'd all three received speculative glances from the reporters, who knew they were not part of the news crews.

Rick was asked to tell his side of the story again. As he recounted the now familiar lies, he happened to glance to one side of the room. There were a couple of dark suited men; he was pretty sure they were compliments of Grollet. More fun for the press party.

Once Rick was done spinning the yarn of his time since the shipwreck, Afaitu opened up the floor to questions.

"Mr. Rodgers, Marcel Laurent, AFP." Rick nodded; he'd become familiar with the man by now. "Can you explain what happened? Why you wrecked, exactly, and what the island looked like?"

Swallowing, Rick nodded. "Yes, Mr. Laurent. As you heard earlier, my fellow crewman and the man in charge of this voyage, Arenui, died while on duty. None of us were aware of this fact, until many hours later when a passenger, Kate Beckett, went to serve him some coffee. She found him dead and woke the rest of us. He'd been dead for many hours and without any navigational input, the ship had been under full engine. I believe we swung far south, which is how we ended up in the teeth of the cyclone. However, we were unable to find any radio signals and all of our methods of reckoning were useless in the cyclone. We were completely lost."

Laurent agreed. "That fits with what the three survivors told rescuers when they were found many years ago."

"Yes. We tried to stay in the same area, but that was impossible to do. The ship was starting to really strain, and I feared we would break apart under the battering of the cyclone. Next thing I knew, I was alone after waking up to a head injury. I realized I couldn't stay on the ship, knew it would sink eventually. Fortunately, with the rain tapering off I saw the island in the distance and by the grace of God made my way there. Once on the beach, I could still see the ship in the distance; we appeared to have struck one of the rocks that surrounded the island."

"And what did the island look like?"

"It was relatively flat, though not an atoll. There was a wide, sandy beach. This is where I first landed and eventually came to live. Lots of trees, mostly coconut palms. A variety of plants, which helped me survive. Lots of birds and a shallow lagoon where I caught fish. There was a freshwater stream that ran across the middle. It tended to dry up during droughts, but I was good at storing water in gourds and built a makeshift still for making freshwater."

"And you saw no other humans during the next ten years?" asked one of the local reporters, Justin Thibaut.

"No, not a single boat or plane passed by that I ever saw. I had a large pile of wood ready to be lit as a signal if I ever saw anything. But I think wherever this island is located, it is far from any shipping lanes. There didn't seem to be any other islands of size nearby. No reason for anyone to come by, I suppose. It was a haven when I found myself shipwrecked on a crippled ship that soon sank under. Then it became a prison as the years passed without any signs of rescue. Little did I know I'd eventually trade one prison for another once I was found."

The government lackeys stirred uncomfortably. Rick smiled broadly at the room. Point made.

"Mr. Castle, er, Mr. Rodgers? Actually, which do you prefer?" asked a middle aged woman with a British accent.

"My given name is Richard Rodgers, so that is how I should be identified. However, I realize many people in the world know me better as Richard Castle. It honestly doesn't matter much to me. I was called Jean Dupont for months, so I'll even answer to that."

Laughter rang through the room, while the lackeys shifted around some more. Rick: 2, Grollet's government: 0.

"Well, Mr. Rodgers, then. This is Glennis Clarke, BBC. What are your immediate plans, and when will you be returning to the States?"

"Both great questions, Ms. Clarke. The short answer is I don't know and I don't know. The longer answer is that my lawyer has contacted the American Embassy. As many here know, the nearest Embassy to French Polynesia is in Suva, Fiji. This makes everything more confusing, since Fiji is across the International Dateline, while Tahiti is not. And having to do everything by phone and email is not conducive to resolving anything with haste. I need a new passport, but apparently the government doesn't like to issue passports to people who are dead. So, we have a lawyer working on resurrecting me back in the States in order to get the passport. I'm told it takes a few days, given the unusual circumstances. In the meantime, I plan to visit with my mother and some…others who've flown across the world to visit me."

He tried to look shifty when mentioning the 'others'. It seemed to work as the next questioner jumped on it.

"Julia Polanco Roa, El País. We've loved seeing your reunion with your mother, but I was wondering if you'd mind introducing your friends? They've flown a long way to be here with you."

Meredith had already jumped to her feet. Gina and Paula both glared at her, which was not lost on the journalists that had views of their faces.

"They have flown a long way. It's a nice feeling to know so many people care about me. This lovely woman standing and waving in front of you is Meredith Harper. She's a former girlfriend. Meredith, you can sit down now." He had to wait a few seconds before she actually did sit. "The beautiful blonde is Gina Cowell. Gina, please stand up." Gina smiled and waved, though much more restrained and refined than Meredith. "Finally, the dark haired femme fatale is Paula Haas. I've worked with both Gina and Paula for years."

"Any truth to the rumor that you're married?" followed up Ms. Polanco Roa.

Rick leaned forward and took a deep breath. '_Forgive me, Kate. I'm doing this for you._' "No. Not married."

"Mr. Castle, Trenton Mckenna from CNN. What is your reaction to learning about 9/11 and the war?"

Rick frowned then just looked puzzled. Afaitu leaned forward in his stead. "As you can imagine, Rick has a lot to catch up on. First with his family. This is his current focus. He's not been told about 9/11 nor the war. He has no comment about any questions like this at the moment. Now, I think this is a good place to stop. Thank you all for coming."

Afaitu stood, Rick and Martha following suit. They exited through a side door to the blessed silence of an empty corridor.

"Afaitu, mother. I keep hearing people mention 9/11. Is this a big deal? What should I know?"

"Richard, darling. It _was_ a big deal. It _is_ a big deal. But it's not bigger than your finding Katie. Concentrate on that. We'll have lots of time to talk about other issues once you've found her."

"You're right, mother. Thank you for everything." Giving her a big hug, they made their way back to their suite to begin the next phase of the day: shopping.

* * *

"Richard, I want to ask you a question, but I don't want you to think I don't trust you."

Martha had been fretting the whole shopping trip. He'd ignored it, figuring she'd spit it out eventually. She'd held her tongue until they'd re-outfitted him and were now slowly walking back to the hotel. The whole afternoon had been oddly relaxing, just spending time with his mother. He'd thought it was going to be an exercise in tongue biting, but she'd been mellow. Probably worrying about whatever she was about to ask him.

"I know you trust me, mother. But I have been gone a long time. Both of us have changed a lot, and it would be foolish to think we know the other as well as we used to."

"Yes, that's just it. I do know you on a basic level probably better than anyone."

Rick silently disagreed, but didn't want to make his mother feel more estranged than she already did. However, Kate knew every nuance of his body language. But now was not the time or place to discuss this particular item.

"And? What is it, mother?"

"I just have the feeling you're not telling everything. There's something else that you haven't told me."

They'd reached the elevators now, and Rick spent the ride to their floor wondering what to say to her. Exiting at their stop, he reached out and halted her before she walked into the suite and they couldn't talk anymore.

"You're right. There's more, but I just can't speak of it. The pressure of not knowing if she's ok is so overwhelming…it's indescribable. I feel like every second without her, without knowing she's fine, unharmed, every single second is a lifetime. And if I were to let go and speak of everything? Then find out that catastrophe has reared its head and she's not ok? Oh, God. Mother, I don't know that I'd survive." He started to cry, and she reached for him, but he held her off for a minute.

"You understand, don't you mother? I don't voice everything for fear it will all be taken away from me. What if I dreamed the last ten years? I had a head injury, after all. What if there was no Kate? What if I'm crazy, and I spent a decade talking to a coconut?"

"Well, better than a volleyball," Martha muttered. Then she was sweeping him into her arms. "It will be fine, Richard. Everything will be fine. You're going to find her and you'll see that you two are perfect together off the island as well as on the island."

He closed his eyes, allowing his mother to shoulder some of his fears and doubts. As her tight hug warmed him, he heard the freaking ding of the elevator bank. He screwed his eyes tighter, unwilling to look and see what monster had been spit out this time. It was probably his most feared teacher in high school, Mr. Snider. Or one of his lethargic former nannies. Feeling a presence approach, he knew he couldn't avoid whoever it was. Praying it wasn't Grollet or one of his henchmen, he slowly opened his eyes.

"Hi."

And for the first time since his freedom, the fates finally delivered a friendly, helpful face to his floor. Rick nearly collapsed in gratitude.

"You ok?"

"I'm fine. Thank God you're here." Rick returned, loosening his mother's grip to shake hands with the newcomer.

"All thanks to you."

Martha's eyes widened when she took in the stranger. "Richard, are you going to make introductions?"

"Oh, yes. Sorry. This is my mother, Martha Rodgers. Mother, allow me to introduce my former cellmate, Salesi Lotomau."

* * *

**I adore reading any comments you might care to leave me.**


	41. Chapter 41: What a Wife Wants

**This chapter is dedicated to my reader(s) in French Polynesia. I know you're out there, as you challenge the Russian Federation in numbers of visitors and views. I've never had any communication with any of you, as far as I know, but I sure hope I'm doing your beautiful country justice in the physical description of the islands and the wonderful people that inhabit them. I picked French Polynesia as my setting somewhat randomly via Google Maps, and the research that I've done to try and do the country justice has made me fall in love with it. I strongly hope to visit someday. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy our favorite characters inhabiting the islands with you!**

* * *

April, 2010

The rush of air past his ears was the herald of trumpeters, sounding his return. The pitch of the ship was the roll of his steed as they thundered onward. The fresh, salty air also carried the tang of his excitement and the pungent aroma of his fear. He was finally on his way.

His laser focus was now directed entirely forward, to the island. No distractions: no mother, no Meredith, no Gina or Paula. The men accompanying him could see that he had no interest in or capability of conducting meaningless talk.

He'd held things so tight, for so long. Unable to even speak of the events on the island, for fear of betraying that Kate was alive, after his rescue, then arrest. Once Tamahere had sent help in the form of Afaitu, he'd allowed himself to share the beginning of their story. He'd needed them to understand his pervasive fear of what her presence, alive and well, would do to Grollet. The lengths it might drive him to, to do her harm.

They seemed to understand, had undertaken his crusade as their own and were ultimately joined by others. Because they owed retribution upon Grollet. Or were paying a debt to their own humanity. Because they honored the memory of a great man. Because they loved him. Because they loved Kate.

But, whatever their reasons for helping him, for helping her, none of them had any idea of the true scope of what he'd lost when he'd found himself in a boat drifting further and further from the island. He'd not dared breathe a word of all he had to tell. Terrified of finding the island empty. Or with death to greet him. Could she have made it so long without him? He knew she was more than capable. She'd carried the load without his help on several occasions when illness or injury had laid him low. But not for months. And not for months without knowing he was alive. That he was doing all in his power to return to her.

He'd like to think if their roles had been reversed, that he could have held on. Waited on her to send help. But he knew deep down that after a month, maybe two if he were really strong, he would have started to doubt. Not _all_ the time. But that niggle would have set in, wormed its way into his heart. During unguarded moments—when he missed her the most—it would have slithered out from its dark corner, conquering a few more inches of territory. And as time had passed, eventually it would take more and more from him.

He knew this, because it was happening to him now—when he was the one with the cavalry of rescuers. He was the one with the location of the island. He was the one with supporters helping him stay propped upright. She had _none_ of that. And it had been so, so long. Months. With no word of him. No sign.

God, forgive him, he doubted. Tried to prepare his heart for the worst scenario. Pictured stepping off some small launch, navigated expertly by him into the interior of the island...and finding nothing. Dust long settled in the house. Food rotted in the kitchen. Chickens unchecked, running amok.

Would he then lose complete hold of his sanity? Or was it already long gone? He wasn't sure anymore. Honestly wasn't certain he'd ever known. So, he remained mute on all but the most necessary subjects. He would speak of nothing more than required until he _knew_. Because until then, he simply couldn't face the possibility that all that he had loved and held dear was gone.

However, his silence didn't keep him from his memories. He'd written it all down; the long time that Afaitu had been in the States convincing Martha to come to Tahiti had been productive. Difficult to write, the happy times after their wedding were in such stark contrast to where he found himself now.

He'd given the papers to Tamahere himself, just that morning. They remained on a desk in Afaitu's house, since Tamahere was coming with him and Salesi on the rescue mission. All the people who'd been reading his story would have to wait until this mission was done, in order to find out more. Which was fine. If things went well, Rick could finish telling their story in person. With Kate no doubt correcting him on facts that he glossed over. If things went badly, if the worst case scenario came true, then at least the rest of their story could be known eventually. Rick wouldn't be able to bring himself to discuss it if all were lost.

So, now he found himself on Ari'i's boat. Alone in the bow, trying to be as close to her as possible as they steamed towards the island. Thinking about her, about what he would do when he first saw her. Thinking about all that had led him to this point; all the people assisting him. Thinking about what had transpired just this morning to get him on this boat.

Afaitu had brought him and Salesi to Mo'orea on one of the early morning ferries. Rick had disguised himself as much as possible, so the press wouldn't follow. They had met Tamahere at Afaitu's house, before heading to Ari'i's ship docked in a village nearby.

His reunion with Tamahere had been emotional. Practically tackled by the younger man as soon as he'd walked through the door. Rick smiled at the memory of Tamahere's crushing hug.

"Hopo, I can't believe you're here. Finally here," he'd whispered hoarsely to Rick. Both men's eyes were bright with unshed tears as they regarded each other.

"Thank you for all your help. For knowing it was me, then finding Afaitu to help us. You saved me. Hopefully saved us."

Tamahere had bowed his head, refusing to meet his eyes at that point. "How can you thank me? I left you there. All I've done since can never make up for that."

Rick grabbed his old crewmate by his shoulder and shook him a bit. "You didn't know. You _couldn't_ know. And you did the right thing, trying to rescue the other two. None of us had any idea back then just how far Grollet would go, what he was like. And you, alone, were the only one to stand up and try to help me. I owe you. My life. My focus now is on finding Kate, but once we do, you and I will have a long talk about everything."

"You know I'll do _anything_ to help you find her."

"I know you will, old friend. You're one of the few people in this world I trust implicitly. Which is why I want you to come with me. I need people who will protect her just as I would. The danger is still so great, until this is all made public."

Tamahere had agreed instantly; he'd been planning on going with Hopo no matter what, and was relieved he didn't need to argue his case with his friend.

Salesi's fortuitous release meant that Rick was accompanied on the rescue mission by both Salesi and Tamahere. This allowed Afaitu to remain in the public view: he'd run interference with the press, try to handle the women left behind, and once Kate was found, help arrange the next steps in exposing Henri Grollet to the world.

They'd met at Ari'i's ship after gathering Tamahere from Afaitu's house. Rick was beyond anxious to get going, and barely made it through all the introductions necessary when they reached Ari'i. The others understood. It might have been amusing to see him so unsettled, but there was nothing amusing about the reasons behind his anxiety.

Seeing Ari'i again reminded Rick of how much he'd missed while exiled on the island. His former first mate now had a lot more wrinkles, but had gained a truly commanding presence. His demeanor brought to mind Anapa; it was a realization that hit Rick like a physical blow. Where would they all be right now if none of this had ever happened? Would Ari'i be the man he was? Would Rick?

Yet, there was no time to dwell on might-have-beens or regrets. The moment had arrived to start moving towards Kate, and nothing and no one from his former life had the ability to distract him from that goal. His most ardent wish was to begin this journey. His greatest fear was what lay waiting for him at the end. Which was how he'd found himself in the bow, even hours after they'd embarked, searching the horizon for the first glimpse of an island that was still days from being visible.

Once more, his memories turned him inevitably back to her. Their incredible joy and happiness after they'd become man and wife. The trials and tribulations that had still waited for them. The challenges they'd experienced, yet they'd risen to meet them. Together.

* * *

April, 2000

"We need furniture."

"Huh?" He was still mostly asleep, lying next to her on their bed. It was just past dawn, they'd spent hours the previous day making love, and she was talking about furniture?

She shifted next to him, rising up slightly on her elbows so that she was half reclining. Looking at him with a serious look that was also adorable in the dim light. "We need furniture. Aren't you tired of sleeping on a mattress on the floor?"

Honestly, he hadn't given it much thought. He didn't care what they slept on, as long as she was in his arms. It was more comfortable than the old pallet and tarp tent they'd had for so long.

"Does this mean the honeymoon is over?" he asked, receiving a halfhearted shove for his efforts.

It had been just over a week since their ceremony on the beach. A week of pure bliss, spent exploring each other thoroughly. His birthday had come and gone five days after their wedding. She'd been his present, the only one he would ever want.

The only chores they'd done were the absolutely necessary ones: collecting eggs, gathering food, keeping the garden weeds in check. Everything else had been put on hold. But, reality, in the form of his wife, was now reintroducing itself.

"Rick, we can't just spend all our days in bed. It's been over a week."

"Why not? Aren't you having fun? Bored of your husband already?" He punctuated each sentence with kisses. Her lips, her breasts. He could see his method of distraction was working.

"Rick, I think—oh, God. Rick." The last was more of a groan than his name, but he'd learned how to interpret her breathy moans and deep groans pretty quickly. He was a quick study and eager student on the subject of what pleased his wife.

An hour later he was still happily lying in bed with an equally happy wife. Unfortunately, his favorite method of distraction had only delayed her discussion of furniture temporarily.

"Rick, I'm serious. You promised me furniture. Plus, we have a ton of other projects left to do. You do want to make me happy, don't you?" She'd taken a leaf from his own book and was driving him crazy as she talked. Kissing him deeply, the whispering touch of a finger on his nipple. He would've agreed to anything she proposed at this point.

Thus, a few hours later found them both up and discussing their plans for the next few weeks. Rick knew she wanted to feel like the house was done, so the first priority was to actually finish the rest of it. But, it was more fun to talk about furniture.

"I have a great idea for the bed, but the mattresses won't work," he explained to her as they sat at the table under the pergola eating a very, very late breakfast.

"What's your idea?"

"I'm going to suspend it from the rafters," he exclaimed, bouncing a little on his stool in his excitement.

"You're going to what?"

"Suspend it. Instead of the frame having four posts that rest on the floor, I'll build a flat frame which we can then suspend with ropes from the rafters of the ceiling. Doesn't that sound awesome? It'll be like a giant swing."

Kate mulled it over. It was definitely different. But she kind of liked the idea. "You know, we could do the same for a couch or chairs too. Swinging furniture. Are the rafters strong enough for all this?"

"Yeah, they'll hold a lot more if they need to. Aren't you glad we took the time to harvest all that really big bamboo?"

Kate just rolled her eyes at that, but she was looking forward to see what he came up with.

"Back to the mattresses. Since they're just narrow twins, it's not the most comfortable to sleep on. Too narrow for us to use together for a long time, and I hate having a gap between us when they're shoved together," he whined.

"So, what's your solution? There's no local mattress store, last I checked."

"I wish," he sighed. "I was thinking we'd put two mattresses on the frame, side by side, then top them with a homemade one. We could sew a couple of the sheets together to make them big enough, then stuff them with dried grass, feathers, whatever."

"And when you say 'we could sew them together' you mean 'me', right?" she asked, barely holding back a laugh at his affronted look.

"Well, I _will_ be building the frame."

"I could build it, Rick. Then you could do the sewing." She hated sewing. They had a couple of needles and some thread—found in Hina's workshop on their scavenging before the ship had sunk. She could do it. She just didn't like to do it. But, she'd do a much better job than he would, so she chose to tease him a bit about it.

"But, Kaaate. I wouldn't do nearly as nice a job as you would," he said, batting his eyes like crazy at her.

"Fine, you big baby. But, if I have to do the sewing, then you're going to owe me a favor."

"What kind of favor?" he asked suspiciously. This sounded like trouble.

"I don't know yet. I'll tell you when I think of it."

"Is it a sexy favor?" he inquired, waggling his eyebrows at her suggestively. "That's the kind of favor I'd be happy to fulfill any day, anytime."

She snorted. "No. I don't need to be owed that kind of favor. All I have to do is ask for that kind, and you'll do it."

"Umm, so true," he said dreamily.

"Seriously, Rick, concentrate. We got a deal?"

"I suppose. Why do I feel like I'm Faust?" he moaned in response.

"Are you saying I'm Mephistopheles?" he eyebrows rose nearly into her hairline.

Rick stuttered. He _really _needed to start thinking before he spoke. "Uh, no. Not Mephistopheles. More like….Gretchen?"

Kate just smirked. "Anyway, before we get started on fun stuff like furniture, don't you think we ought to finish the house? I'm tired of climbing up and down a ladder to get in and out of the house."

"I'm more than happy to lift you in and out if you want to avoid the ladder."

"As tempting as that is, I seem to remember your hands finding rather interesting places on my body to touch when you're my ladder."

"I'll let you climb me any time you want," he leered at her. "Besides, my hands have found your body fascinating since the day you first ran into me."

"Ugh, don't remind me. My right boob was sore for days."

"Maybe I should check it out for you, make sure it's ok."

"Rick, that was months ago. Keep your hands to yourself, you big oaf!"

Twenty minutes later found him out by the bamboo pile, still wondering how exactly she'd slithered her way out of his grasp and managed to get him in front of his pile of bamboo poles. The woman was talented, that was sure. Sighing, he set to work. His wife wanted to finish their house, so finish it he would.

* * *

One week later, they had steps and upper windows on the seven walls. The steps had been pretty easy to do, but Rick had struggled with the design of the doors. They had no true hinges and he was nervous about using rope in their place. He figured opening and closing them repeatedly would wear through the ropes very quickly. Kate found him contemplating the issue, staring at the finished doors as they leaned against side of the house.

"Are you waiting for them to hop into place by themselves?" she asked after watching him just stand and stare at the doors for several minutes.

Rick jumped, startled. "What? No," he replied, snaking an arm around her shoulders and pulling her in for a kiss. He explained his worry about hinges to her, and she gave him a thoughtful look.

"What? I know that look, Mrs. Rodgers. You have an idea. Tell me."

She shivered, in spite of herself. It was strange hearing him call her 'Mrs. Rodgers', though it gave her flutters in all the nicest places.

"Why do they have to hang like regular doors?" she gave him a quick kiss back as his brows furrowed in confusion.

"Whaddya mean?"

"Why not hang them like the upper windows. Build some sort of frame they could rest on when lifted up and open. That'll give us a bit of shade over the entrance. We don't need them to be closed most of the time, just when it's raining or storming. Oh, and at night. Keep the stupid chickens out of our house." She'd chased one out just yesterday. Much to Rick's amusement.

He looked at the door frame thoughtfully. "You know, that might just work. You're a genius, you know it?"

"It's why you married me. Someone has to be the brains of this outfit."

He pretended to be affronted, then chased her all the way to the beach. She was faster than him through the trees, but she didn't have a prayer in the water. Not that she wanted to get away.

* * *

"Rick?"

"Over here," he shouted back. He was harvesting yet more bamboo, though this time from the large grove near the shore. Putting down his saw, he wiped his sweating face with his shirt, which he'd removed about ten degrees earlier. It was hot, and they were nearing the dry season. He was cutting yet more bamboo for furniture. The pieces not good enough for their house would be used in his next project, which would be an irrigation system of some sort for the garden and orchard.

Kate sauntered into sight and stopped cold as soon as she saw him. She was bringing him lunch, knowing he was quite busy. She also had a question to ask him, but the appearance of him leaning shirtless on his hatchet handle while he stretched out his back was…arresting.

"Kate?" he asked with an amused twinge to his voice after she just stood there, speechless.

"Uh, yeah?" she finally managed.

"Did you need me for something?"

"Yeesss." God, yes. For something.

"Whatcha need?"

"I brought you lunch," she spilled out, holding up a basket of food she'd brought with her, once her brain caught up with her body.

"Oh, great. Let me wash up real quick." He walked down to the shore, just a few yards away, and bent down to splash some water over his head and shirtless torso. Kate felt her mouth go dry.

The basket dropped from her suddenly nerveless hand, but she barely registered the thud it made in the grass. Closing her eyes, she tried counting to ten. When that didn't work, she started in on the alphabet. Backwards.

"Kate, are you ok?" he asked, concern tinging his voice. The sound of such caring in his voice undid all her work, as arousal coursed through her. Opening her eyes, she knew by the hitch in his breath that he could see how turned on she was.

He leaned down and captured her mouth with his, running his tongue along her lower lip until she opened for him. Things escalated quickly from that point, until they were both breathing hard and fast. Somehow, Kate suddenly remembered why she was there. Pushing a hand on his chest, she managed to get some separation between them.

"Kate?" he gasped. "What's wrong?"

She stumbled several steps away. "We can't, Rick." Three of the hardest words she'd ever spit out.

"Why?"

"No protection."

"Oh. Oh, no. Are we completely out?" he cringed at the thought. They couldn't make a trip to the ocean side for another day. He felt bad for her, having to be the one who dealt with this unpleasant side of their relationship. And sea sponges as a barrier method were not exactly…fun to deal with.

"Yeah, we need more. When do you think we could make the trip?"

"Completely, utterly out?" he asked, hoping the answer would be no.

She nodded instead. "We were probably chancing it last night, but I didn't realize until this morning that it was the last one." Damn.

"Wanna go right now?" he threw out, knowing it was not possible. He just wished it was.

Kate snorted. "I wish, babe. Seriously, when can we go?"

He thought about their current projects. Nothing was pressing. The doors were now hung, as Kate had suggested. The house was done, save for furniture. And the garden could be left for a few days.

"We could go tomorrow. We need more fish and more salt anyway. It could be a second honeymoon."

"It's only been a bit over a week since we finished our first honeymoon," she pointed out.

"I know, it's great, isn't it? I love being married."

He got another eye roll for that, but he knew that what she _really_ meant by it was that she loved being married, too.

* * *

"How many do we need?" he asked, knife poised above a cluster of sponges. Thank God there were a lot of them.

"When are we coming back out?"

"Maybe once a month? Make salt, do the fish thing. Gather sponges."

"Better get at least ten then," she replied. He winced. The sponges were reusable, if rinsed out properly, but they were newly married and definitely enjoying each other. Multiple times a day. Each sponge could only take so much. "How long until the papaya trees are ready?"

"They've been growing like crazy. I think another three or four months, but remember I'll have to be consuming the seeds for three months to be safe."

She sighed. It was the worst part of being married, but she'd gather sponges for the next twenty years if it meant they could be together.

After they had more than enough sponges for a month, and had done some 'quality testing' per Rick, they got busy with the rest of the work. They only spent two days this time, anxious to get back to working on the house.

It hadn't rained either night they'd spent on the beach, and Rick began to wonder what the dry season would bring. How far would the lake drop? Would a lower water level allow more salt water intrusion? What would happen to the waterfall?

He spent the next week on furniture, with Kate helping and making suggestions to improve his designs. He built a square frame from bamboo for the bed, just big enough to hold two of the twin mattresses. He then suspended it from its four corners to the rafters. Kate had spent a day grumbling over a needle, stitching four sheets together, which they then stuffed as full as possible with dried grasses, leaves, even some dried seaweed that Kate had thought to bring back with them from the beach.

The result exceeded their expectations. It looked quite inviting, hanging from the rafters on the left side of the house. It was comfortable, and the ticking smelled of the sun and the salt of the ocean. The only problem they had was that it tended to swing with movement. It wasn't terrible, but there was noticeable sway. Which led to some interesting results the first time they made love on it. However, they'd both soon learned to use the oscillations to their advantage. Rick decided all in all, the swinging bed had been a genius idea.

* * *

May, 2000

Rick woke to the bed swinging slowly in place. Figuring Kate had just gotten up, he groaned as his stomach lurched. He should be used to this feeling by now, but this morning it was quite nauseating. He lay still for a second, hoping it would help settle his stomach, but the churning feeling in his stomach continued to intensify.

Sitting up as best he could, he stood and ran for the doors. Oddly enough, they were still closed, but he didn't have time to wonder where Kate was—he barely got them open and nearly fell down the steps before he vomited in the grass next to the house.

Groaning, he stood shakily. He did _not_ feel good. Deciding he'd rather be in bed, he stumbled into the house, where he saw Kate sitting on her side of the bed. She was pale and sweaty.

"You ok?" he asked, walking on trembling legs to her.

Instead of answering, she suddenly dashed for the door, following in his footsteps right down to the vomiting outside the house. He followed slowly, wanting to help her but still feeling dizzy.

Making sure she was ok, he left her sitting on the ground, eyes closed as she fought for control over her traitorous tummy. He shuffled to the kitchen and retrieved a couple of water bottles as well as two large pots so they didn't have to run to the doors.

Finding Kate where he'd left her, he bent down and smoothed her hair. "C'mon Kate, let's get back into bed."

She let him help her up and they leaned on each other as they climbed back into the house.

He was the stronger one, so he helped her into bed after making her take a few sips of the water. She paled a bit, but kept it down. Joining her in bed, he decided that the swinging bed idea was the worst thing he'd ever thought of building. As soon as he felt better, he vowed to run a rope or two to a floor joist so they could minimize any movement.

"What's wrong with us?" she whispered. It was her first words to him since waking up that morning.

"Probably food poisoning." He'd gone fishing in the lake the previous day. While drifting around in the canoe, he'd had a lunch that had included some of their latest batch of dried fish. He'd thought it tasted off at the time, but ignored the warning his nose and tongue tried to send him.

"God, I feel awful," she groaned. He reached over and clutched her hand closest to him. Drifting off to sleep, neither thought to ask the other what exactly they had eaten to make them sick.

* * *

**Rick's on his way to Kate in 2010, and we're back to the island for a bit. What could possibly go wrong?**

**Gretchen is a character in Goethe's _Faust_, which is referenced in their banter.  
**


	42. Chapter 42: Say What Again?

**This chapter is dedicated to elizabeth. bynog. Enjoy both her reviews and her tweets to me. Great supporter of this fic. Thanks for all the kind words and all the enthusiasm you show for it on social media!**

* * *

April, 2010

Martha was already tired of dealing with Meredith, and it had only been 6 hours since Richard had left for Mo'orea. At this point he should already be onboard the ship, on his way to the island. Martha began mentally listing all the favors he'd owe her for this…duty. But as soon as she got past five, she stopped.

It wasn't his fault that he and Katie had ended up in the situation that they'd found themselves in. The reality of it was, Katie was in danger, her son was head over heels in love with the woman—had apparently married her according to what she'd last read of the story—and was the only person who could find her. Martha was honored to be a part of the whole mission, and knew he trusted her to keep the true nature of his disappearance hidden from those who would harm them. Even if it meant dealing with Meredith Harper.

She had counted Grollet and his minions as the only people who would wish to harm Katie, but now she was beginning to wonder about the younger actress as well. The woman was unhinged. Or perhaps a better performer than Martha had ever credited her to be. She'd pounded on the door to the suite just a few hours after Richard had hugged and kissed his mother goodbye; very early for Meredith, and so a complete shock when Martha pulled the door open and found the red-head standing there.

Meredith had begun ranting almost immediately, mainly about Paula and Gina. Clearly she'd been taken in by their act, and _clearly_ she didn't appreciate it. She'd thought she could waltz back into Richard's life; perhaps assumed a man lost on an island, alone (according to the story) for ten years, then imprisoned would simply forget what had happened between them in the past. Or that he'd forgiven her during his long, solitary exile.

So, when she showed up and found two other women had come as well….it didn't go down easily. Now she was raving in Martha's suite, complaining Richard hadn't given her his cell number—and not listening when Martha pointed out he didn't have a cell phone. Showing up at the suite, to find it empty of the one person she wanted to see the most—Richard—put her over the edge. Martha's refusal to tell her where he was made it even worse.

Martha Rodgers was a master of using the press to her advantage: lessons painfully earned over the course of the last decade. She knew that Meredith's current state of rage would serve to help their story of Richard fleeing from three too many women pursuing him. However, the reality of living through the rage was a different kettle of fish.

Now it was several hours later, and Martha was beginning to contemplate the benefits of homicide. The woman hadn't shut up; Martha wouldn't have bet anyone could complain this long without getting tired or thirsty, but Meredith seemed to be the Energizer bunny of discontent.

To distract herself, Martha began reflecting on the story she'd read so far. Richard had always had a flair for the dramatic, but she would wager that this particular tale was the hard boiled truth. It was an incredible love story, no matter how it ended. Ten years alone together—it boggled the mind. She'd never lasted more than five years with either of her husbands before boredom and fighting set in.

She was dying to know what happened after their marriage—after all, that event had taken place within the first six months of their being marooned. How had they survived? What had they done with themselves? Well, besides the obvious. Ten years in the same place with a man, no way to escape, would have driven her over the edge. Plus, how had Katie managed to capture and hold her son's attention—a man who'd never spent more than a few years in a relationship previously? She had to know more about their years together.

However, she'd finished reading all that had been translated. The story he had written, up until Afaitu had left for the States. With all the time he'd then had in Nuutania, waiting for Afaitu to return, surely he'd written more? Probably a lot more. Yet, she'd seen and heard nothing about it, and in the excitement of his return she'd not thought to ask about it. Now, with him gone, she had to know the rest. An idea suddenly popped into her head. She waited for a lull in Meredith's monologue to spring her plan.

"Meredith, dear, you know, I think that Richard is simply meeting with his lawyer over some matters. I'm sure that's all it is. But here you are, all upset. Darling, that does nothing for your complexion at all."

Meredith gasped and ran to a mirror. "Oh, my God, you're right. What should I do? When is he coming back?"

"I don't think he's coming back for a while, dear. They had a lot to do. But, you might want to go rest, then maybe do something relaxing, like shopping. I'm sure a good four or five hours should restore you back to your normal self," she told the younger woman as she escorted her to the door. "Ta-ta for now, darling."

As soon as the door closed, she collapsed against it, one hand covering her face. Lord, that woman was difficult! Recovering, she practically ran to the bedroom and grabbed her cell. Dialing a now familiar number, she silently remonstrated to herself to remember there were likely invisible listeners. She'd have to play it right.

* * *

They met in the hotel restaurant four hours later. A late lunch in appearance. A meeting over food. So much more to her, potentially. The chance to learn more.

"Are you sure this is ok?" Afaitu wondered.

"Yes. He gave you the papers for Tamahere to translate, right? But, since Tamahere went with him, he _couldn't_ translate them. Who knows how long they'll be gone? I'm just offering to keep the process going. So that we're all up to date."

"It's in a cipher."

"Darling, I _know_ that. Richard invented it in school. He kept getting in trouble with a teacher who didn't like his writing. I haven't seen it in years, but I was somewhat familiar with it in the past."

Afaitu sighed. Martha was a force to be reckoned with, there was no question. "You're sure you're not too busy with other matters? This might take a while to do."

"Darling, what is there to do, really, besides preventing Meredith from doing something stupid and waiting for them to let us know she's safe? It might be days before we know anything. Just think of the time we'll be saving them. And, we'll have a better understanding of what happened."

"You know the security measures to take?"

"Oh, yes. Not an issue. Jim showed me what to do."

"Fine," he sighed. This didn't seem right-translating the story had become a way for Tamahere to exorcise some of his demons-but he didn't have a compelling reason not to give her the papers. And they were all curious. Rick was holding something back, something he refused to tell everyone. Even him.

Fishing the papers out of his briefcase, he handed them to Martha, who immediately tucked them into her large tote bag. He also gave her an encrypted flash drive, which contained the cipher's key.

"Thank you, kiddo. I'll see you tomorrow?" It was still afternoon, but Afaitu had told her he had some business to attend to.

"Yes, I'll try and be here as early as possible."

Martha took her leave, then hurried back to her suite. Not wanting to be interrupted by Meredith again, she put out the 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door, though that wouldn't really deter the other woman.

Slipping into her room, she retrieved her laptop from the safe and booted it up. Inserting the flash drive, she reviewed the key. She hadn't seen it in years, but a lifelong job as an actress had given her great facility with memorization and odd words. She was zipping along in the new chapters much faster than Tamahere had been when he first started.

Two hours later, she'd finished a chapter and was well into the next, when she suddenly sat back with one hand pressed to her lips. Rushing through to the end of the chapter, she was stunned. She frantically reviewed what she'd translated so far, then double checked to make sure she hadn't made a mistake.

Realizing she hadn't, she burst into tears.

Now she knew what he'd been hiding, or at least part of the story. And the knowledge broke her heart all over again.

* * *

June, 2000

Kate woke up to the sound of whistling outside the house and an empty spot in bed next to her. It was well past sunrise; she couldn't believe how long she'd slept. The food poisoning had completely wiped her out. She started to sit up, but realized quickly that she was still feeling queasy. Collapsing back onto her pillow, she wondered just how long this was going to last.

Rick was fully recovered, based on the whistling she heard. It had been a rough couple of days; he had been much sicker than her, vomiting a lot more. However, once he felt better, he'd bounced back quickly. She, on the other hand, had continued to feel nauseous off and on throughout the day and felt exhausted much of the time.

After lying still for a few minutes, she decided to try and get up. Rick came bouncing into the house just as she stood on shaky legs.

"Morning, beautiful. Are you feeling better?"

"Nooo, not really. But you apparently are."

"Yeah, I feel completely back to normal. You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn't want to wake you earlier."

"Thanks, Rick. I'm still queasy and tired, but I thought if I got up that I might feel better."

"That's a good idea. Want an arm to lean on?"

She smiled, and nodded yes. He bounced over to her and gently led her out of the house and down to the kitchen.

"Want some water?" he asked, after seating her on her stool at the table.

"Sure, I'll try it."

"You need to stay hydrated, Kate. I could make a soup for you too, if you want something for lunch."

"Let me do the water first. We'll see about the soup."

Sipping water over the next ten minutes did make her feel better. The nausea was still there, but it was tolerable. Rick sat down on the stool opposite hers, cocking an eyebrow in question at her.

"Feeling better?"

"I am, a little. The water helped."

"Do you want to go lay down again, or do you feel well enough to be up?"

Kate considered her options, and decided all in all she was good enough to be up. "I was thinking I might feel even better if I could get washed up a bit."

"Ok, but I want to go with you, in case you get sick again."

Kate nodded. She'd not wanted to chance it alone, anyway. She still felt too shaky to feel safe on her own.

By the time Rick was ready to accompany her to the lake, she was feeling a lot better. She'd finished the water and had started drinking another. She had even felt a little hungry, and ended up eating half of a banana.

She spent the rest of the day sitting in the pergola, weaving a screen for the door, or resting in bed at Rick's insistence. She could tell he was worried about her, but when she was able to keep down some soup at lunch and then again for dinner, he relaxed a bit.

The next day, she was still slightly nauseous, but less than she had been the day prior. She was able to eat some solids, drink quite a bit of water, and only threw up once. She felt she was definitely on the mend.

* * *

Kate was nearly back to normal two days later. She still had some queasiness, and vomited once in a while, but overall things were much better. She wasn't waking up sick, and the nausea only visited around mealtimes—and not consistently even then. She was still pretty wiped out, but was continuing to rest frequently, at Rick's insistence. They both figured a few more days and she'd be as good as new.

She'd awoken that morning to find Rick had beaten her out of bed once more. He was working on his irrigation system next, and still needed more bamboo for the project. The saw was missing, so she knew he was cutting the pieces he'd need. The plan was to run a long pipe, made of the bamboo and spliced together with caulking from breadfruit sap, from the waterfall to the orchard area. The end of the pipe emptied into some shallow ditches they'd dug out; the water would pour into the main ditch, then run down the parallel lines that came off the main ditch.

The end near the waterfall had a piece that was removable. The end of it was a giant half funnel, which could be positioned under the waterfall itself. With the force of the falls and the size of the funnel, it wouldn't take long to fill the irrigation ditches. The whole project wouldn't take much longer than a few days; the rate limiting step was having enough bamboo to run from the waterfall to the main ditch.

Kate's next project was working on their furniture. Rick had built the bed and was about to start the couch and chairs when they realized they'd better get the irrigation project done. The dry season so far had lived up to its name; the last four days had been without rain. They couldn't afford to lose any of their trees, and carrying water to them was a real chore.

Thus, it fell to Kate to work on the furniture. She'd decided to leave the more complicated chair and couch to Rick. They weren't essential pieces. However, she was longing for some sort of shelving. They needed a lot: for their clothes and linens, which until now had been simply stacked on the floor. For their pots/pans and cooking utensils. For their food storage. For their tools. The list was long. And building shelves wasn't a difficult task. Measuring out the bamboo poles so they were all the same height was the toughest part of the job.

She was working on her second shelving unit; the first had been placed in the kitchen late last night after she'd finished it. There were already a variety of pots and pans proudly calling it home. It was functional, but also looked pretty damn good, though she was a bit biased. So was Rick, who'd gone on and on about it. Secretly pleased at his praise, she'd also been embarrassed. It was a bookshelf, for goodness sake. The man had built her a house. They didn't quite compare.

Finished cutting the bamboo poles, she gathered what she needed and took them to the kitchen table. She was still a bit woozy; sitting in the shade of the pergola and working seemed like the best idea for the heat of the day.

Just as she got to the kitchen, she heard a faint sound. It was no more than a soft echo, but it reminded her of her name. Dropping the bamboo, she walked down closer to the lake.

There it was again. Definitely different than the lap of the water and the rustle of the leaves and grass in the slight breeze. Not a bird, or at least one she'd heard before. Closing her eyes, she waited, listening intently to see if there would be another repeat. Cupping her hands behind her ears, she patiently stood. Waiting. Waiting. Wondering…what was it?

It sounded again. To her left. Away from the waterfall, then. The direction of…

"Oh, God. Rick!" she exclaimed, as she broke into a run. Now, with her blood pounding in her veins and the adrenaline flooding her system, she could hear nothing but her own voice in her head: 'please be ok, please be ok, please be ok'.

It wasn't until she was nearly on top of him that she could hear him. Yelling. Her name. Except now he sounded weak, barely like himself at all. As she burst into the grove of bamboo, she couldn't see him anywhere.

"Rick," she screamed, a guttural sound with all her fear poured into it. "RICK!"

A groan from her left had her turning away from the lakeshore. Eyes searching, darting furiously, she didn't see him. Starting forward, she'd taken no more than ten steps when she nearly stepped on him.

He was laying on his left side, on the muddy ground, eyes full of pain. She knelt in front of him, still not understanding what had happened.

"Rick, what is it? What's wrong?"

"Kate, Kate," he groaned, "you came. I knew you'd come."

Cupping her hands around his face, she ran her thumbs over his cheeks. There were tears. Pain? From what? "Rick, what's the matter."

"I fell. I'm stuck."

He let her take his right hand and shift him until she could see the problem. Turning, she vomited. From the sight or from her illness, she didn't know. Once she was done dry heaving, she turned her attention back to him.

"Sorry, babe."

"Don't be sorry, Kate. I puked after it happened, too. You have to help me."

"What happened?"

"I was cutting bamboo, and had just finished chopping a few pieces down. I was leaning over to grab them and my foot slipped in the mud. I went down, hard, on my left side. Then I couldn't get up," he told her, gesturing at his left arm. The upper part had been impaled on the remnants of a bamboo stalk. It entered near the outer side, down by the elbow, then exited near the middle of his bicep. It was bleeding profusely, and had been for a time, judging by the amount of blood he was sitting in.

"Babe, we've got to get you up." Looking around, she saw his saw. Grabbing it, she knelt next to him. "I'm going to saw the bottom off so we can get you up. This might hurt. I'm so sorry."

"It's ok; just ignore me if I cry out."

She grimaced, then started sawing through the stem still attached to the shard that entered his skin. Within seconds, the vibration from the sawing motion had him grunting in pain. Halfway through, he was crying out periodically, then started cursing in a loud voice. Kate did her best to ignore it all—she had to get him free from the ground, then they had to figure out how to stop the bleeding.

An eternity later, and many loud lamentations, he was free. They were both breathing hard: Kate from exertion and stress, Rick from pain. Kate sat a minute, trying to get control of her rampaging fear, before standing before him.

"Rick, you have to get up. I can't lift you up alone. Take my hand and try to stand."

Rick knew he had to get up; had to make it back to camp. Normally a five to seven minute walk. He was not looking forward to it. Taking her outstretched hand, he let her pull him up to a more comfortable sitting position. A deep breath preceded his lurch upright. His left arm hung at his side, the chunk of bamboo still impaling it. Blood still pouring out.

"Where's your shirt, Rick?"

"Took it off when it got hot."

"Yes, but where is it?"

"Over by the stack of bamboo I already cut."

Kate rushed over to the pile and ran back with his t-shirt. Ripping it in two, she made a crude bandage around the injury.

"Can you walk?" she was looking at him with such worry; he hated that he'd caused the fear he could see in her eyes.

He nodded slowly. "I can walk, but I'm a little dizzy. Can I lean on you?"

"Of course." She walked around to his uninjured right side and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Let's go, and just keep a slow and steady pace."

They managed to get back to Pereora after about twenty five minutes of a shambling gait, Rick supported by his smaller wife the whole way. The bandage was helping, but he was still losing blood.

"Kate, you have to get the bamboo out of the wound." She had helped him into the house. He insisted they put down a tarp over the bed; they didn't have enough sheets to be able to afford bleeding all over the ones they had.

"I know, Rick. Is there anything I can give you for the pain before I do it?"

"No. But we'll need some sea sponges, arrowroot powder and ripe noni pulp mixed with sea salt to treat the wound. Use a clean t-shirt to loosely cover it if you have to; let it stay in the air if you can. The noni pulp forms a protective barrier. The arrowroot powder is in that basket from Hina's workshop that you grabbed from the _Iriata_."

"Ok, we should have everything at hand then." She did not want to do this, but the consequences of not doing anything were far worse.

"Ready," he asked.

"No," she replied. "But, there's no one else. I can do this."

"I love you, Kate."

"I love you too, Rick."

Taking a deep breath, she took a firm grip of the larger end of the piece, the end she'd cut off from the stem. Positioning his arm so she'd have a good angle to work with, she gave him one more look before she started. He had his eyes closed, trying to regulate his breathing. She closed her own eyes for a minute, praying for both of them.

Reopening her eyes, she placed her left hand on his arm and began to pull the piece out. It was not easily done, and Rick was soon all but screaming with her efforts. Not wanting to jerk on the bamboo, she simply applied enough pressure until she felt it give and then slide out. Rick lost consciousness at this point. He'd started bleeding heavily again, but she hoped it wasn't from an arterial wound. She thought she remembered learning those injuries had spurting blood, and this was just welling out of the wounds.

He was already lying down, with the left arm up. Working quickly, she applied the noni/salt mix, then the arrowroot powder, using a sea sponge to hold pressure on the wound until the bleeding had slowed significantly. Finally, she ran out and picked a couple of riper noni fruits and squeezed the pulp onto the entry and exit wounds.

Rick seemed to be breathing evenly. He was pale, but had a strong heart beat when she felt for his pulse. He'd need a lot of fluid, and she planned to make him drink noni juice as well.

Finding nothing left to do, she went to the kitchen to prepare a broth for him, then returned to her vigil. Curling up in the bed next to him, she watched the steady rise and fall of his chest and let her brain be run over by the fear she'd held at bay while attending to him.

They were so vulnerable here. Sure, they had access to medicinal plants, but if he'd broken his arm, or hit an artery, there would have been little she could have done for him. The bone would heal, eventually, but the structure might not be aligned properly. An arterial injury would likely be lethal. So many simple, routine things on this island could turn deadly with just a moment's distraction.

She'd nearly lost him. What would she do without him? She could survive; he'd taught her enough by this point. But her life would once again be a shadow of the real thing. Except this time she knew that she'd be even more devastated than after her mother had been murdered.

It made her feel a bit guilty; her mother's death had truly changed her life. But meeting Rick, falling in love with him, marrying him? These events had transformed her into a person she'd never known she was even capable of becoming. If she lost him, she didn't think she'd ever truly recover.

The whole accident was a sobering reminder of just how fragile and fleeting life could be, especially when they were required to do hard, manual labor to eke out an existence and had no access to true medical care. She vowed to not take his love for granted and to live in the moment with him as much as possible.

* * *

He was essentially bedridden for five days. She nursed him with an intensity that was almost frightening to behold. He wouldn't have dared to get worse or die in light of her fervor for taking care of him. He knew if he had developed problems, she would have overcome them through her strength of will.

Fortunately, the injury had somehow avoided any apparent arteries, major tendons and ligaments, and with the careful nursing by Kate he avoided any infection. By the fifth day, it still hurt, but he could get up and about.

Waking up on that fateful fifth day, he found himself alone in their bed. It was just past dawn, and he knew she was undoubtedly preparing him breakfast. She insisted on him eating as much as possible, as well as drinking a lot more noni juice than he cared to drink. The stuff just didn't taste good. But he couldn't bring himself to tell her no; not when he'd been the one to make her look so pale and wan.

She was exhausting herself, trying to keep the orchard watered, food gathered and cooked, and him alive.

Sitting up, he found he was minimally dizzy. Standing was ok after a minute, and he shuffled out of the house, down the steps and towards the kitchen without feeling like he was going to collapse.

The sound of retching brought him up short.

"Kate?"

She was just to his left, throwing up in the leaves.

"What's wrong? Are you still sick?"

She nodded, miserable. "I thought it was going away, but the last two days I've thrown up every morning."

"Sweetheart, you need to lie down. I can get some breakfast on my own."

"No, Rick. Once I throw up I feel better. It's fine."

He reached out for her, and she gratefully collapsed against his chest. They hadn't hugged for what seemed like years. As he tightened his right arm's grip around her and pulled her closer, she gave out a whimper of discomfort.

"What's the matter, Kate? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

She'd pulled back already, absently rubbing her chest. "No, I'm just a little tender right now. It's ok."

Rick narrowed his eyes at her, several scenarios running through his head. Suddenly suspicious, he asked her a question that would end up changing their lives forever.

"Kate, when was your last period?"

* * *

**Surprise! Though many, many had guessed it already. Got thoughts? Let's hear 'em.**


	43. Chapter 43: The Sponge Wasn't Worthy

**This chapter is dedicated to hulihana. Love the reviews and the comments made therein. Very sorry I can't post two chapters a day; I'm not that far ahead right now. However, I appreciate the excitement and love that you can't wait to read more.**

* * *

**I would like to thank all the readers who've taken time to leave me PMs and reviews for the last chapters. I'm sorry I've not responded to them all, but work has been just unimaginably busy. We're setting records for inpatient volumes—good for the hospital, bad for anything outside of work. I do love to hear from you, so please leave me your thoughts if you care to.**

* * *

May, 2000

Kate froze, paralyzed by the weight of his question. Mind a complete blank, she couldn't think, didn't even want to understand what the hell he was asking.

But, she did. And the question left her cold and clammy with fright.

She'd _not_ been keeping very close track. First, their collective illness had laid them both low, then, just as she was starting to feel better, Rick had had his incident with the bamboo. Nursing him, while keeping everything alive in the orchard and garden had left little time for herself. What time she'd had was spent agonizing over his health, praying he'd improve. Terrified he wouldn't.

"Kate?" his concerned voice broke through the paralysis. She felt the weight of his warm, reassuring hand on her shoulder as she knelt on the ground.

She looked up at him, fear radiating from her in palpable waves. "I—I don't remember, Rick."

"Do you keep a record of it somewhere?"

She nodded, mouth still a dry, arid wasteland. He held out his hand to help her up and she accepted the support. She wasn't sure she could have stood independently for another five or ten minutes—not after this.

However, once standing she still couldn't move. Eyes closed, she had the same thought over and over, driving every other thought into deep, inaccessible pits. '_I might be pregnant, I might be pregnant, I might be pregnant._'

"Hey, hey, Kate. It's gonna to be ok," Rick's deep voice tried to reassure her; she felt his strong arms wrapping around her, gathering her to his considerable bulk. While he might not squeeze as hard as usual with his injured left arm, it was still a very comforting place. She relaxed a tiny bit, letting him prop her up for a few minutes. His fingers soothed her, petting through her hair as if she were an injured baby bird calmed by the stroke of his hand.

It worked, as some of the abject misery leached out of her body and back into the ether, ready to be recalled at a moment's notice.

"What are we going to do?" she whispered to him.

"Let's go look at your calendar first, Kate. Maybe this isn't what it seems to be."

Right. Her calendar. She could do this; could make her feet move. Could walk—if he came with her, she could do this.

"I keep track on our big calendar," she explained. Since she'd taken over those duties from him, months ago now, she'd made a little dot over days of her period. They weren't obvious, unless you knew what to look for.

She had been very regular when she'd been in the States. However, the stress of the shipwreck and then trying to survive had wreaked havoc on her cycle. She'd been as late as a week and even early by a few days. Suddenly feeling reassured, she started to walk the rest of the way to the kitchen area. Surely this was all easily explained by stress and irregular nutrition.

* * *

Sitting numbly on her stool, head buried in her hands, Kate was the picture of anguish. It hadn't been a week. Nor two. No, it had been almost three weeks from her last period. She'd never been this late. Ever. She couldn't believe she hadn't noticed. Though, obviously, she'd had other things on her mind.

She heard Rick shuffling around. She was ignoring him for now, unable to process anything past the fact that she was probably pregnant. On an island without any medical care. The words _unmitigated disaster_ sprang to mind.

"Kate," she heard her husband whisper to her, then felt his warmth enfold her as he reached around and easily lifted her to his lap. He'd moved his stool so it was right next to hers, though she hadn't noticed at the time.

Safely ensconced in his strong arms, she gave in to the tears that had been threatening from the time Rick had asked her that damn question. He let her cry, rocking her like a child. When _that_ particular analogy popped into her head, she started crying even harder. It was at least half an hour before she'd calmed enough that she could think clearly enough to string a few words together.

"What are you thinking?" Rick asked gently, once she was mostly hiccupping instead of sobbing.

"That I'm terrified. Rick, there's no medical care here. What if something goes wrong? I don't know anything about having a baby."

"Kate, I'm terrified too. But, you're young and healthy. Women have been giving birth for thousands of years without the benefit of modern medicine."

She stiffened a bit in his arms. "And dying. Or the baby dies. And we don't have anyone here to help. At least there were midwives or other women available, even if there wasn't modern medicine. I don't know anything, Rick. I was never a teenager who babysat or was even very interested in babies."

"Kate, I've spent the last nearly year of my life with Hina, going from island to island helping people. I assisted in the delivery of about a dozen babies. And helped her care for close to twenty pregnant women during that time. I know I don't know enough to replace her, or even come close to it, but I'm not completely in the dark. It is possible, even likely, that both you and the baby are going to be fine."

"So, everyone was totally fine in your experiences? No complications?" She knew he couldn't assure her of a complication free pregnancy, and was angry that he was minimizing, or trying to minimize, the risk.

"No, no not everyone. But, I'm thankful they weren't."

"Why on earth would you say that?" she snapped.

"Because it gave Hina a chance to explain what she was doing and why. I learned more from those cases than the ones where everything went smoothly. And most of them were the smooth, no issues variety. But, I won't deny there were a couple of times where things didn't go as expected."

"And in those cases? Was Hina able to help?"

"Yes. And they all ended up with healthy moms and babies. I really think we can do this, Kate."

"Well, it's not like we have a choice at this point," she said, bitterness still evident in her acerbic response.

"No. I'm sorry. I thought we'd taken enough precautions."

"Clearly not. God, Rick. I don't know anything about babies. Or being a mom. What do we do about diapers? What if I can't breastfeed? There's no milk, besides coconut milk." She started trembling as her anxiety over the whole situation spiraled out of control.

"Kate, sweetheart, calm down," Rick's deep, soothing voice washed over her, taking some of her fear with it. "We don't know for sure that you're pregnant, just that you're late."

"Why'd you ask me then? You had no idea that I was late when you asked me when my last period was."

"Well, you were still throwing up. I've been over my puking illness for over a week now. And you kind of yelped when I pulled you in for a hug."

"What does yelping have to do with it?"

"Not yelping, but why you yelped. Do you remember what was sore?"

She didn't need to think back; they were still sore. Had been for days, though she hadn't thought about it consciously—too busy focusing her entirety of being on his recovery. "My breasts."

"That's what made me put it together. Sore breasts, vomiting. You're tired too, though you have good reason to be exhausted, with all you've been doing recently. But it all added up to being pregnant."

"Is there any way to know for sure?"

"Not that I know of. We don't have access to any pregnancy tests. It's mainly a matter of waiting. I think before pregnancy tests were available, people didn't know for sure until the mother felt the baby move. But, we have to assume you are. Make sure our diet is a little more varied, as much as we can."

"The garden is close to giving us our first tomatoes and the beans aren't far behind. That'll help."

"Yep. And we'll need to make sure you're getting plenty of protein. And either sweet potatoes or fish every day for calcium."

"Fish have calcium?"

"You know the little ones? They eat them whole."

Kate paled. Seeing her reaction, Rick tried to make it sound more palatable. "We can take their heads off, but it's important to eat the bones. Maybe in a stew?"

"Could we take out the middle too? Then entrails?"

"Sure, babe. That'll be fine. But, I can tell you that the women who ate a native diet had very healthy pregnancies. Hina always complained about the few women who ate a more western diet, with lots of junk food. Those were the women who had trouble."

Kate sighed. She didn't really have a choice in what she ate: they were at the mercy of the bounty of the island and the sea. At least she hadn't screwed the kid up yet. "What else would she tell women?"

"She recommended eating fresh citrus foods: she told me it helps with iron absorption. And lots of dark leafy vegetables."

"It's not so different from our regular diet, then."

"No. We were incredibly fortunate to end up here. The variety of plant life on the atolls is very limited, not to mention fresh water. We'll be fine, Kate. All three of us," he added, gently placing one hand over her lower abdomen.

"Do you really think we can do this? That it'll be ok?" she quavered.

He reached up and stilled her shaking jaw, turning her head so he was looking into her eyes. "I know we can. You're extraordinary at everything you do. Motherhood will be no different."

She collapsed against him again, glad to have him holding her. He'd become the only support she ever wanted. She was a strong woman, had been through more than most people could begin to fathom. However, she'd learned in the months with Rick that it was a relief to not have to be strong all the time.

He respected her as a person; allowed her to have space when she needed it. But, there was great comfort in letting him wrap around her protectively. She'd never imagined she'd find someone like him, someone to truly share her innermost fears or the parts of her that were weak and needy. But he took it all in stride and shared the same with her. They were strong for each other, and that was what she needed from him right now.

* * *

Retching into the bushes, Rick kept his eyes closed, fighting down the burning taste of the vomit. Once his stomach was truly empty, he stood and groaned. Walking absently to the lake shore, only a few feet away, he continued to panic.

Kate had gone to lie down for a while. Exhausted from her pregnancy and her recent overexertion. He'd encouraged it when he'd seen her eyes closing as he held her tight. Relieved when she'd agreed, not only because he wanted her to rest, but also because he wasn't sure how long he could stave off the panic threatening to drown him.

He'd been able to wait until after he'd escorted her into the house, made sure she was comfortable. It had been all he could do to keep from breaking into a run the minute he cleared the door on his way out. He _had_ started running once he made his way through the trees to the kitchen area. He'd nearly made it to the shore before he'd emptied his stomach.

The signs were all there; he was sure she was pregnant. And the thought was absolutely terrifying. He'd known how scared she was—he was just as petrified. However, he'd known she'd look to him for reassurance, for the faith they'd need that it would all be alright in the end.

God help him, he'd somehow found the fortitude to give her confidence. If they both broke down in panic, he knew it would make things far, far harder. So he would pretend that he was certain all would be fine. He'd be the rock for her in this. He had little else to offer. There was absolutely nothing either of them could do about it now: she was pregnant, and they had to deal with it.

But he knew, he knew from the depths of his soul, that if anything happened to her he'd never forgive himself. He'd been the overconfident idiot who'd come up with the idea of using a sea sponge as a contraceptive. Clearly its record for effectiveness was nowhere near what it needed to be. Yet, he was also aware that there was no way they could have lived with each other without giving in to their attraction.

They were in love; it was impossible not to be affected by her. And stranded in an impossible situation. They'd done the best they could, but now those actions above all else might threaten the life of the woman he loved more than anything else in the world. He sank down to the shore and began sobbing as the enormity of what he could lose overwhelmed him.

* * *

Kate had tried lying down, but she was too restless. She was tired, but her mind was whirling at tornadic speed. Once she'd finally realized that she was probably—almost definitely—pregnant, she'd immediately been filled with all the most alarming scenarios. No medical care. No medicines, save what little they knew they could make with the limited flora they had. No other women to ask questions, be reassured that she was doing fine. No knowledge of even what to do with a baby, if everything went well.

However, now that the initial maelstrom of panic had receded—a bit—she was beginning to feel some of the joy and euphoria that came with the news as well. She'd always wanted children, though the thought had obviously been an abstract for some day. She'd been too young to even think about it, focused on going to college then law school. A family would necessarily happen later. Then her world was knocked completely off its axis and even college became an impossibility.

Her life since losing her mother had been so crazy; the only thing she'd wanted for many, many months was to just go back to what they'd had. It wasn't achievable, but it was what she wanted. Her family, back. Her innocence from the reality of the cruel world restored.

She'd never imagined being able to move past the bitter grief delivered to her over a year ago. That is until the tsunami of life known as Richard Rodgers had rolled into her world. And now she had a tiny life that they'd created together harbored safely in her womb. It was an incredible feeling, to know that the act of their love had created another being.

Dropping one hand to cover her lower abdomen, she whispered to her unborn child, "I know you can tell I'm scared. I don't know how to be a mother, but I want you to know that I'll do everything I can to keep you safe. I love you so much already."

Rising from the bed, she felt the need to be with Rick at that moment. To let him know that while she was still terrified about the whole thought of doing this without access to modern medical care, she didn't regret for a second that they were having a baby together. Walking to the kitchen area, she didn't see him. She'd expected him to be there, perhaps preparing their next meal. Looking out around the thriving garden and orchard showed no sign of him.

Unsure of where he was, she walked towards the lake by simple instinct. When she was highly emotional, the gentle lap of the tiny waves of the lake soothed her. She heard him before she saw him—he was crying. Giant sobs as though he'd just received the worst news possible. Running up to where he sat on the ground, near the lakeshore, she knelt next to him, touching his shoulder gently. He had his arms wrapped around his knees, which were drawn up to his chest. His head was buried in his thighs, but his whole body shook as he cried.

"Rick, what is it? What's wrong?"

He was clearly startled to see her, jumping a bit at the sound of her voice and her touch on his shoulder. Looking up bleary eyed at her, she could see he'd been crying for a while based on how red his eyes were.

"Kate? You're supposed to be sleeping."

"I can't sleep. Too much on my mind. Please, Rick, what's wrong?" She crawled on her knees just a bit closer to him. He took the hint and straightened his legs out. She crawled into his lap and cradled his head, kissing him repeatedly on the cheeks. "What's wrong? Please tell me what's making you cry so hard."

"I don't want to bother you, Kate. It's my own problem, not yours."

"It's too late for that, Rick. I can see you're really upset. If something's worrying you, I want to know."

He was silent for several long moments. She felt him stir beneath her, shifting uncomfortably. "I want to be strong for you," he whispered, words catching in his throat as tears threatened once more.

"Oh, Rick. We can be strong together. You've already been so supportive through all the stuff in dealing with the anniversary of my mom's death. Now that we're married, I hoped we'd face things together." She caressed his shoulder and chest as she spoke, trying to impart how much she wanted to help him.

"It's just—God, Kate, I don't want to tell you. I'm afraid of what you'll think and how it'll affect you."

"Well, you're already scaring me. If you don't tell me, I'll be forced to imagine the worst scenarios possible and I'm sure that's worse than whatever it is you have to tell me."

He sighed, sounding heartbroken. "I wanted to be the rock for you here, to be the one you relied on."

"You are. _You are_. Just tell me," she whispered, leaning forward and kissing him. A reassuring kiss, telling him nothing he had to say would affect her love.

"I'm so scared. I can't lose you. I don't know what I'd do!" he suddenly burst out, startling them both with his vehemence.

"Scared of what?" she questioned, before answering for him. "Is this about the pregnancy?"

He nodded, miserable.

"But you were so confident, earlier."

"I know, I _know_. I was so scared that if you knew how afraid I was about everything, that it would make you even more scared and it would make everything harder. I wanted you to feel that I at least had a handle on things."

"So you've never delivered a baby? Was that all just made up to make me feel better?" She was stiff with anger. She'd never imagined him actually lying to her about something as important as all this.

"NO, _no_. I _have_ done all that I said, but Hina was there. You've just got me. And I'm far from an expert. What happens if something goes wrong? I'd never forgive myself, Kate. I don't think I could go on."

"Shh, shh," she soothed. Now that she understood his fear, she felt they could both deal with everything. Together, as they'd gotten through all their trials so far.

"You said most deliveries went fine, right?"

"Well, yes. It was pretty rare for there to be a complication. Though Hina did try to teach me what to do if X situation or Y problem cropped up. She was such a great teacher. I miss her and Anapa so much."

"I know you do. Believe me, I'd rather be somewhere with more people. But, we don't have that luxury. You know, I was lying in bed, thinking about things, and I realized something. A few things, actually."

"Like what?" he asked her.

"Well, it was just a few days ago that I was faced with the prospect of possibly losing you. It scared me to death. And you've made almost a full recovery, I know that, but I got to thinking about how dangerous our lives can be here. Accidents at any time, an illness that we can't manage. I could lose you at any point, and I'm so grateful that you've been in my life and showed me the meaning of what it means to love and be loved."

"Me too, Kate. Me too." He leaned down and kissed her slowly. As they broke apart, she continued.

"So, I'll never regret being with you. Loving you, marrying you. No matter what happens to us, we've had this time together. And, Rick, we've made a child out of the love we share. How can that be a bad thing? I'm still scared, don't get me wrong, but we're going to be parents together. It's an incredible feeling."

He had to smile at the obvious joy suffusing her as she finished speaking. "You're right, Kate. It is a wonderful thing." Reaching down, he touched her lower abdomen just as she had earlier that day. "A part of me is growing in you. And we'll figure it all out, the whole baby thing. I'm scared, but with you and I in this together, I think we can overcome just about anything."

Her only answer was to capture his lips in a passionate kiss. She knew with him by her side, the impossible suddenly seemed possible. Together, they could take on the world.

* * *

**So, as it turns out, sea sponges as a barrier method are only effective if you use a spermicide with them. There are recipes to make such spermicides using natural products that are available to them. However, Rick either forgot this step or never learned it. This was a deliberate choice on my part for the story: he can't be infallible all the time, and the impact of this mistake is far reaching—though in a good way (IMO).**


	44. Chapter 44: Yes, Dear Whatever You Need

**This chapter is dedicated to glo1196. An author with far many more stories under their belt than me, I'm glad that Surviving Paradise caught their eye in the midst of all the ficathon stories. You all know by now how much I appreciate reviews from everyone, but when fellow authors tell you they like what you're doing, it brings an extra special glow to my heart. Thank you so much for your continued support.**

* * *

June, 2000

A loud bang—two pots clanging together—made Rick jump from his stool. He'd been working out the design of the rest of the furniture in his head while he finished putting together their last shelving unit at the table. He'd turned his focus back to the house, now that he'd finished the irrigation system. It worked like a dream, and the labor it saved them from hauling buckets of water was immeasurable.

Looking up, he saw his wife moving stiffly around the kitchen, anger apparent in each motion. He knew this look. It had become more and more familiar with each passing day. It was the look that meant that yet again he'd done something to piss off his very irritable, pregnant wife. Laying down the spool of homemade rope he was using to tie the shelf together, he just sat and looked at her.

She was so beautiful to him. Still suffering from morning, afternoon and sometimes even night sickness, she was sleeping a lot. With the irrigation system in place, he was able to do most of the remaining labor. _Wanted_ to do most of the labor. His biggest nightmare right now was her being injured during one of their routine tasks.

"Stop staring," she snapped after he made no effort to speak.

"What's wrong? You're obviously upset with me."

Her whole body stiffened, even more rigid if that were possible. He hadn't thought it was. Whirling, she shook the large wooden spoon she had in her right hand at him. "You were whistling. Again. I asked you NOT to whistle."

"You asked me that two days ago."

"And I meant for it to continue. Every. Day. No whistling."

"I thought you found it cheerful."

"No. Not cheerful. Annoying, fingers on chalkboard horrible, yes. Cheerful? No."

"So, you're saying there's a moratorium on whistling?"

"A moratorium, a freeze, a halt, an abeyance. Whatever word makes it clear. NO. WHISTLING."

It was all Rick could do to keep from bursting out in laughter at the sight of his wife. She was quite worked up, but the vision of her branding a wooden spoon at him over something as mundane as whistling was hilarious. He knew better than to show any amusement. Still had the bruise on his right leg where she'd kicked him over an unguarded smile a few days ago, when she'd insisted that she'd already gathered the eggs that morning. He'd learned to just go do it after she moved on to some other task. And to keep his mouth shut and in no way for his lips to resemble a smile—unless she was smiling.

Luckily, it hadn't been as hard as he'd thought to encourage her to sleep during the day. The garden was now producing ripe vegetables, which, coupled with the bounty the island already produced, had allowed them to expand their diet even further. She looked very healthy, to Rick's eyes, and it only took him mentioning a couple of times how important a lot of rest was for a healthy pregnancy before she was taking a regular nap.

Unfortunately, even with as much rest as she was taking, the hormones were still taking their toll on her temper. She had little patience these days for anything she deemed annoying. Most of which were Rick related. Yet, he knew that for as often as she flew off the handle at him, she'd be in tears regretting her angry words at him within twenty minutes. Yes, pregnancy was not easy. For either of them.

Rick bore it all without complaint. He knew why she was so unbalanced. It certainly wasn't her fault. He also knew that if they'd lived in a place with more people, he wouldn't likely bear the entire brunt of her displeasure. He was her only possible target on their island, so he took it all with equanimity.

He also thought back to the pregnancy with Meredith. It had been so different, both of them working. He'd not had the opportunity to spend day in and day out with Meredith. Hadn't wanted to, if he were honest with himself. That sentiment alone spoke volumes about his true relationship with his ex-girlfriend.

This was an entirely new experience, and though he and Kate faced a lot of barriers, he was grateful he got to be at her side for the entire journey. They did everything better together, and he was determined that this would be the case with their baby as well.

Neither of them was entirely sure how to date a pregnancy. He knew it was supposed to be 40 weeks, and they both figured that meant from the end of her last period. Based on that, they'd decided she was now about 8 weeks along. Which scared him, as Meredith had miscarried in her eighth week. She'd had to have a D&amp;C, which was clearly not available here. Once more, Rick found himself praying everything would go well. He'd let her yell at him for hours if she could just have a healthy pregnancy and delivery. If they'd calculated correctly and there were no complications, she'd be due in mid January. Perhaps not the most auspicious month for Kate, in particular, but Rick figured a baby would help her create some good memories of that month.

Clamping his lips together, he thought hard about not whistling. Kate had turned back to the pot she was stirring on the fire: fish stew, again. She needed the calcium which the little fish he caught by the netful in the lake provided. It was a pain to clean them, but his wife wouldn't eat them any other way.

He resumed his task of finishing the shelf. This one would join three others in the house. They'd likely need another when the baby came, but for now they'd have enough storage—finally. He was planning on working on the couch and chairs next; nothing that seemed too labor intensive, though he did want to try his hand at a swinging couch too. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice that Kate had turned around again and was glaring at him.

"Rick," she growled. He looked up, startled.

"What? I wasn't whistling, I swear."

"Why are you breathing so loud?"

"Huh?"

"You're _breathing_. It's loud."

"Kate, what are you talking about?"

"I can hear you. Breathing. Loudly. Why are you so loud?"

Trying to not take it personally, he was also very careful to keep from smiling. She was pretty cute in her irritableness, though that particular thought would go over like a lead balloon. He'd learned the hard way she had no idea how ridiculous some of her complaints sounded.

"Kate, I have to breathe. I'm not breathing any differently than I have on any other day."

"Yes, you are. Because I can _hear_ you. It's driving me crazy."

"Well, I don't think you really want me to stop breathing, right? Wait, don't answer that. How about this? Just let me finish this shelf. I have one more lashing to tie it all together. Then, I'll just take my shelf and myself out of your hair and you'll have as much quiet as you need. Is that ok?"

She huffed in annoyance. "I suppose. It's not your company that I'm finding hard to tolerate. It's the noise you're making while you're breathing."

"Yes, so you've told me. But, since I see no way to breathe in any other manner, I think it's best if I leave you alone. You'll have plenty of my company later tonight, ok?"

She nodded and turned back around. Rick quickly and expertly tied the last pieces together, cut the rope and placed the shelf on the ground to assess its functionality. While not the most attractive piece he'd made, it would serve its purpose and appeared to be quite sturdy.

"Ok, I'm done. I'm gonna go check the orchard and garden and probably need to walk down to the waterfall and run some water for all the plants. You ok?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I'll see you later," she replied, sounding a bit annoyed at his questioning if she was ok or not.

He walked over and gave her a quick kiss, which was pretty brave of him, all in all. At least he thought he was brave. Picking up his shelf, he took it to the house then set out to do the chores that were a never-ending part of their life here on the island.

* * *

Rick put the last ripe tomato in his basket. They now had beans and tomatoes, and the papaya trees were already bearing fruit, though they were tiny and not close to being ripe yet. His mouth watering at the thought of the new foods, he started back to the kitchen, which was only a few steps from their garden.

Puzzled to find it empty, he stirred the rich stew bubbling on the fire. It looked ready to eat, but he was missing his wife. Figuring she'd just gone to the outhouse, he waited a few minutes. When there was no sign of her, he started to get a bit worried. He decided to go look for her, and the most obvious place for her to be was the house. Perhaps she'd needed a quick nap.

Their house was a refuge of blessedly cooler air in the heat of midday. With the shade provided by the trees surrounding them, and the thick thatch of the roof, it was quite pleasant inside. They kept the shades down on the sides where the sun hit the house, so it was rather dim. At first, he didn't see her curled up as she was in the bed. She looked like she was sleeping, so he was about to sneak back out when he heard a tiny sob.

Turning back, he strode over to the bed. She was curled up, facing away from him. Now that he was closer to her, he could see her shoulders shaking as she cried, nearly silent. He climbed into bed next to her, careful not to make it swing too violently.

"Kate? Why are you crying? What's wrong?" he pleaded as he reached out and drew her into him. She snuggled up next to his side, though for some reason she started crying harder.

"Kate. C'mon, what is it? Is it the baby?"

"N-no," she sobbed. "It's me. Why am I such a terrible person?" she wailed, tears soaking his chest where her head rested.

He stroked her back softly, waiting for her to settle down a bit before he answered.

"You're not a terrible person. Why do you think that?"

"I told you that your breathing annoyed me. What kind of person does that?" she choked out.

"Oh, sweetheart, I know you didn't really mean it."

"I did at the time. It was all I could think about, how the noise was making me crazy. But, then you left and all I could think about then was how awful I was to you."

"Kate, it's ok. I'm sorry I do things that annoy you."

"That's just it, Rick. I love you so much, but sometimes it feels like I forget how much I need you and I try to drive you away. What's wrong with me? When you're not with me, I imagine all kinds of horrible situations. Like living without you. If something happened, I'd want to die of shame for the stupid things I say. I don't know what's happening anymore."

"Kate, you're pregnant. It's the hormones talking. I know it's not really you."

"Ugh, Rick, I feel so sick most of the time. I'm tired, nauseous and my breasts ache all the time. I can't remember half the time what I did just an hour ago. Everything feels so out of control."

"That's all normal, Kate. You're doing great. I'm pretty sure as you get farther along, things will get better. I think I remember reading that once the first trimester ends, a lot of the nausea and exhaustion improves," he soothed. He'd done some reading when Meredith was pregnant, though he really didn't want to mention his ex-girlfriend's name in front of his emotional wife. Luckily, she seemed to accept his mention of reading about pregnancy at face value.

"Do you really think so? Gosh, I can't wait for that."

"I'm sure of it. In the meantime, you can yell at me all you want. I love you, Kate, and I love this baby of ours. I know you're having a rough time, but in the end it will all be worth it." He took the time to say a quick prayer that both his wife and unborn child would be healthy. "Now, you feel like eating? Cause the stew's done." Helping her up, they walked together hand in hand, her tears from moments before forgotten in the face of his love.

* * *

Kate woke slowly. Stretching with care on the bed, she knew she was alone. With her pregnancy, she had been sleeping far longer than she used to. Rick was nearly always gone by the time she opened her eyes, these days.

Pausing in her stretch, she assessed how she was feeling. Most days found her feeling fine when she first woke, but by the time she was ready to get out of bed the ever present hint of nausea was stalking her. It seemed worst in the morning; she was rarely able to eat anything for breakfast. However, the feeling usually resolved itself by lunch, or once she was hungry enough to ignore it. Rick didn't fuss over her too much if she ate a big lunch and dinner.

A week had passed since her absurd comments about his breathing. She felt guilty about it every time she thought about it. Her emotions were following a rollercoaster track—something she was very unused to doing. In the past, she'd been proud of how in control she could be when it came to intense emotional states. Not that either extreme was necessarily healthy; she'd realized just how closed off she'd been once she finally opened up and let Rick into her life.

However, these days she was the exact opposite, or so it seemed to her. She couldn't hold anything in check, finding words flying out of her mouth before she even knew what she was saying. And, since Rick was the only other person on the island to talk to, he was the recipient of it all: good and bad. Mostly bad. Everything seemed to irritate her these days.

She hadn't realized how terrible it all sounded until she'd basically asked him to stop breathing. As soon as those words had registered, she'd felt distraught. It was incomprehensible that she could say such things to the man she loved with all her heart. To her further shame, he'd forgiven her immediately.

She'd made a vow to try and think before speaking and to be more accepting of any little irritating habits that he had manifested since her pregnancy. None of them had bothered her much before; now it seemed as though he only did them to drive her nuts. Yet, reflecting on it all when she was calm led her to believe her severe reactions were probably due to all the hormonal changes she was going through, and not really Rick's fault at all.

The past week had shown variable success in her effort to be less overtly irritable. There was a blowup during dinner one night when the sound of him bouncing his leg on the ground had led her to consider homicide by dull utensil. Then there was the horrible episode two nights ago, when it had been especially hot. She'd felt like she was going to spontaneously combust, and Rick was emitting far too much heat for her to tolerate him in the bed. He'd simply gotten up and slept on the floor, without a word. She'd cried herself to sleep, guilty again for making him feel bad. The episode frightened her even more when she considered how uncomfortable she'd been; she was only nine weeks along, more or less. How hot was she going to be when she was further advanced? It was a daunting thought.

Sighing, she finally rose from the bed. No use lying around. Rick wanted her to take it easy, and had begun doing some of her usual chores, but there was still plenty of work to do.

The ever-present nausea manifested as soon as she was vertical. She went to the kitchen first to retrieve a water bottle; hydration was incredibly important in the tropics. Hearing the distinctive sound of chopping, she knew her husband was working in his workshop area. She headed straight for him, wondering what he was building today.

He was a sight to behold: shirtless, sweating from his efforts. The early morning sun kissed his bronzed skin, highlighting his well-developed musculature. Nine weeks ago she would have probably jumped him, he looked so irresistible. Nine weeks ago she wasn't exhausted and nauseous. They hadn't had sex in several weeks; she had zero desire at the moment. Pregnancy was definitely not bringing them closer together, at least intimately, between her irritability and feeling ill all the time.

"Morning, Rick," she called to him when he paused in his work. He looked up at her and smiled, grinning ear to ear at seeing her. She smiled back, thrilled he still responded to her so effortlessly.

"Morning. How're you feeling today?"

"About the same as every day. Want some water?" she asked, holding up her bottle. He strode over to her, giving her a quick kiss before taking the bottle from her.

"What are you working on today?"

"Furniture. I think I'll be done with the couch by the end of the day. The pieces for the chairs are already cut, they just need to be put together as well."

"It'll be nice to have places to sit in the house."

"Yeah, it will," he agreed. He thought to himself it would be nice to have somewhere to sleep other than the floor, once the couch was done. However, that was a thought he knew to keep to himself.

"So, it sounds like you'll have the chairs done by tomorrow night, since all the pieces are cut?"

"Actually, I was thinking that maybe you'd put the chairs together? It's something you can do in the shade of the pergola or the house, and it's a project you can put down to do other things if you need to. I'll finish the couch, as it's almost done, but I have a new project I want to start on right away."

Kate nodded absently. "Sure. I have some laundry to do today, but I can work on the chairs after that. Which pieces?"

"Ah, why don't you tell me where you want them, and I'll put them there while you're down at the lake?"

"I'm not helpless, Rick. I can carry some bamboo pieces—they aren't heavy. Now, point them out, please."

Sighing, he pointed to two piles. "Just take enough for one chair. You don't need all the pieces at once."

"Fine. But, I'm pregnant, not an invalid."

"I know that, Kate. But, I can't help but think that if something were to happen, there's no help here. I just want you to stay healthy and safe."

"Well, I have a better chance of doing that by staying active, right? If I just sit around all the time, I'll be in far worse shape for the delivery than if I stay busy. These aren't heavy. I'm not gonna strain myself."

"Ok, but please call me if you need something heavier moved? Please?" He used the puppy dog eyes on her, and damned if it didn't work.

"Yes, I'll call you. Even though you're being silly. But, I know I've been acting stupid, thanks to all these freaking hormones. And since you're such a good sport about it all, I'll be a good sport for some of your eccentricities."

He gave her a loud, smacking kiss. "Thanks, sweetheart. It'll make me feel better about the circumstances."

She gave him a playful shove, defusing what little tension still existed between them even further. "So, what great project are you going to be working on next?"

"I want it to be a bit of a surprise. Is that ok? I have an idea in my head that I think you're gonna love, but I'm not sure it'll be feasible yet. Do you mind waiting for a bit?"

Kate looked at him, seeing the eagerness to please her shining through his earnest words. "I can wait. Though I can't imagine how you'll surprise me; we spend all of our time together."

"You're right, but I guess the surprise part will be if I can get it to work. Give me a few days or so to see if it's feasible, then I'll let you in on it."

Her only response was to give him another quick kiss, before taking her bamboo pieces to form into a chair back to the pergola.

* * *

July, 2000

Another week passed languidly, at least for Kate. She finished both chairs, and Rick hung their new couch as he'd planned. Kate loved sitting in it and reading, when she had the chance. Now that Rick was working on his mystery project, she was often found there in the daytime, reading his book over and over. She was still nauseous off and on, though overall it seemed to be improving.

She would have started on a table and stools for the house, but Rick wouldn't let her cut the bamboo alone. After his accident, she didn't have the heart to argue, even though she thought she was more than capable. The sight of him covered in blood and so weak sprang to mind every time she thought about that particular bamboo stand, and she couldn't bring herself to quibble with him. So, she worked in the garden, cooked their lunch and dinner, and read.

For his part, Rick was very closemouthed about what he was up to. She knew it involved a bunch of bamboo—she'd seen him carrying it to his workshop area. Oddly, though, it was fairly thin pieces. Nothing even thick enough for more furniture. He'd also asked her to gather as much breadfruit sap as a large basket allowed. So, she knew he wanted to waterproof something, but as to its purpose…well, she had no idea.

They were well into the dry season at this point. To their relief, it just meant that instead of daily or nightly rainfall, they instead experienced brief showers every two to three days. They were thankful for the irrigation system, as without it they'd have been watering by hand several times a day. However, it seemed to be enough rainfall that the waterfall only slackened a bit in its size and force, and the lake dropped marginally.

Kate was now ten weeks pregnant, and they'd both noticed a definite protuberance to her lower abdomen. She was still fairly irritable, but now was taking several naps a day, which helped her mood tremendously. She also finally felt settled in the house: it wasn't a big empty space with just a bed. It felt like a home, and it was amazing how much that calmed her as well.

She felt well enough that they'd resumed their sex life, though certainly not as frequent as before. It was even more enjoyable now that she didn't have to worry about the damned sea sponges.

Standing in the kitchen, stirring a boiling pot of taro corms, she heard her name being called.

"In the kitchen," she shouted back. Really, the man only needed to look for her in one of two or three places. Why did he always have to yell her name?

"Hey," he said, walking up to her and kissing her. He looked damp, though not from sweat.

"Have you been swimming in your clothes?" Usually they swam naked; it wasn't worth the extra laundry that soaking their clothing would bring.

"Nope." He grinned at her.

"Then why are you all wet?"

"I've been working on your surprise, and I think I'm ready to tell you about it."

He definitely had her attention now. She was dying of curiosity, and he knew it.

Taking her hand, he led her down to the waterfall area. To her surprise, she saw a long, thin bamboo piping extending into the spray of the fall, just like the irrigation bamboo, but much smaller in diameter. The piping headed straight for Pereora, though it appeared to truncate before reaching their home.

"What's this?"

"My surprise."

"I see that, but I'm not sure what it's for."

He turned to her, taking both her hands in his as he gazed at her with love and adoration.

"Well, I wanted to make you something a bit luxurious. When you kicked me out of the bed that night, you were feeling so hot. I was thinking about how much worse it'll get for you."

Kate nodded. She was dreading being heavily pregnant on a tropical island.

"So, I was thinking about ways to cool you down. I came up with two solutions: a shower, which I've wanted to build for a while, and a fan."

She smiled at his enthusiasm. "A shower sounds great. But we don't have any electricity for a fan. Unless you're gonna stand over me all night, waving palm fronds."

"Yes, well, that's where my idea comes in. I'm gonna run this pipe of water all the way to the house. There, I'll mount a barrel on the outside of the house. It'll be the reservoir for the shower; I'll eventually run a line to the kitchen too, so you'll have running water for the sink. And over the barrel, I'm gonna mount a little water wheel, that'll be geared to turn a fan over the bed. What do you think?"

She stared at him, overcome with his thoughtfulness. Unable to say a word, she just grabbed him and kissed him. It was the only answer he needed.

* * *

**Yes, I made all that up. No, I have no idea if it'll work. It seemed reasonable to my decidedly non-engineering mind. **


	45. Chapter 45: A Gathering Storm

**This chapter is dedicated to sparky1971. The very first person to review this fic, way back when. It's crazy to think how long ago that day now seems, though it was only in May. And with 45 chapters as of today, and over 200,000 words into this thing, I still feel like we're not even halfway through what I originally planned to write about. So glad you're all here along for the ride with me!  
**

* * *

April, 2010

Shifting the bags in her hands, Meredith eased, temporarily, the ache in her left shoulder that the heavy burden was causing. She'd been shopping for several hours, and while Papeete was no Paris, the French influence was unmistakable. She'd found several nice stores, and a little retail therapy was always welcome.

She'd probably bought too much, but hadn't been able to resist several new outfits—they were simply far too cute on her! She'd found a nice shirt for Rick, and even had the foresight to pick something out for Martha. She figured getting the old bat on her side wouldn't hurt.

As she walked towards the hotel, she wondered if Rick was done with his meetings. Their reunion hadn't gone exactly as she'd planned, at least so far. After spending ten years alone, she'd figured he'd fall into her willing arms as soon as she held them out. But he was different, somehow. Not the same man she'd known by any measure.

Not that it mattered that much to her. Her main purpose, after getting Rick, was to reap the benefit of all the publicity being near him brought her. That part of the plan was going swimmingly. She'd even had some press follow her around a bit as she shopped! Presumably they were waiting for Rick to make an appearance, which he hadn't, of course. Nevertheless, it was very exciting and completely justified in her mind the expense and time she'd put into flying to Tahiti after seeing on the news that he'd been found alive.

The truth was that she wasn't getting the same roles she'd used to have thrown at her. She still had to live as though she was doing great—appearances were everything in her world. Look vulnerable, and the vultures wouldn't hesitate to swoop in and pick over her carcass. She wasn't ready to be pushed aside, and if reminding the world that she was still around meant that she had to do so by being at Rick's left hand, well, she'd do it.

Her place could easily be at his side, just like before. It _would_ be by his side, though he'd been strangely reluctant to rekindle their relationship. She couldn't fathom why; he'd bought her a _ring_, after all. So what if he never actually _gave_ it to her—she'd known that he _meant_ to, and that was enough for her. When he didn't fall into her arms as she'd swooped into the hotel, it had been quite…confusing.

Initially, she'd blamed those two snobby bitches, Gina and Paula, for confusing him, but during her shopping trip she'd decided she was misreading the situation. Gina and Paula had been a part of his life for many years—he'd said as much during the press conference. Yet, her recollection of their role in his life was that they were always simply business contacts. He'd never had any interest in either of them, romantically. How could he, when he had her to keep him satisfied?

Yet, when Gina and Paula had showed up on her flight to Tahiti as well, she'd been threatened. What on earth would induce them to fly to the other side of the world as quickly as she was? Obviously, the answer was Rick, but what was the motivation? That was the piece of the puzzle that had hung her up for some time. She knew why _she_ was going to Rick's side. They must have the same goal as her.

The thought of having to fight for him, when she thought he'd just fall into her arms, had led to her melt down this morning in Martha's suite. It simply wasn't fair! His romantic past was with_ her_, and she wouldn't give him up for those two bimbos, no matter what they were thinking. Martha's suggestion of a shopping trip had been the key to solving all her despair over Rick.

For one thing, it gave her some time and the ability to reflect—well, as much as she ever did. Looking at the facts with less emotion, she knew their purpose couldn't be the same as hers. Thinking about it a bit more, as she'd flicked through clothing racks and souvenir stands, she concluded that their primary motivation was likely financial, not romantic. Rick had been a best-selling author, and his book about Derrick Storm, published posthumously (or so they all thought), had blown up the charts. Now the news of the long dead author actually being alive after all this time was going to send it through the roof again. Not to mention any book forthcoming that detailed his ordeal over the years. Gina and Paula weren't dumb. They went where the money was.

That had been enough to calm her down considerably. However, it was while she was shopping in a large souvenir shop that she'd discovered a very interesting and very reassuring piece of information: Paula had a boyfriend, or perhaps fiancé or husband. Someone she loved, anyway.

Meredith had been hidden behind a large display of tropical flowers and intricate necklaces when she'd heard the unmistakable nasal tone of the book agent. The woman was loud, and completely unaware of that fact. Meredith briefly considered fleeing the store, as she wasn't interested in being that near the obnoxious woman, but as she caught part of the conversation, curiosity held her in place. Paula had clearly been talking to a lover, telling him how much she missed him and that she hoped to be coming home soon. 'As soon as this business wraps up, baby,' she'd sprayed into her poor cell phone's receiver.

That's the moment Meredith had experienced her epiphany into the reasons the two other women were here. It made shopping an even more enjoyable pastime, and that was how she'd ended up with far too many bags to carry comfortably alone. She might have worried about the expense and limited packing space, except for the fact that Rick was rich and likely to charter a private plane back to the States.

Ultimately, time would prove her right about the private charter. However, she would not be one of the people on it.

* * *

Meredith was still several blocks from the hotel and despairing of all the stuff she'd bought, when a large town car pulled up next to her. The window rolled down on the passenger side, and a Polynesian man with the cutest French accent addressed her.

"Ms. Harper?"

"Yes?" she replied, curiosity piqued.

"I am Tane. I work with the President of French Polynesia, Henri Grollet. We were both shipmates on the doomed _Iriata_, and knew Richard well."

"I remember something about that. I've done a bit of reading about that time of Rick's life, you see," she stated proudly.

"A very good idea, in general," Tane replied. "President Grollet is interested in getting to know you better as well. He was wondering if you'd agree to join him for lunch?"

"I'd be delighted," Meredith exclaimed. A best-selling author was one thing, but a President was a whole other level.

Tane leapt out of the car, taking her packages from her and then holding the door to the backseat for her. She settled in, luxuriating in the sight and smell of the well-appointed car. This was how she was meant to live!

They pulled up to _L'o a la bouche_, a restaurant near the yellow walled and red spired Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Papeete. It was downtown, not far from her hotel. Escorted in on Tane's arm, she was ushered into a private room where a handsome man in an expensive suit awaited her.

"Ah, Mademoiselle Harper, I am so pleased to meet you," he exclaimed, charmingly bending over to kiss her hand. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Henri Grollet, at your service. And, I must say, _tu es encore plus belle que je ne le pensais_."

As he assisted her to her seat, Meredith couldn't help but think that she'd finally found a man with manners to match his good looks. He was the epitome of charisma and grace, and she was putty in his hands before they'd even ordered their repast.

"Mlle. Harper, I must wonder how such an exquisite creature such as yourself came to be shopping alone?"

"Well, M. Grollet, Rick had meetings for most of the morning. I love to shop, and I must say I was quite charmed by all the quaint shops you have here in Papeete."

"Ah, yes. We have worked hard to make sure there are plenty of choices for tourists to choose from. After all, a vacation in paradise deserves a worthy memento to take home."

"I agree, Henri!" She giggled a bit at the fact that she'd rhymed his name, though by accident. "I found several items I just couldn't live without, but I was very glad to be offered the ride by your man. The bags were quite heavy."

Henri waved away her concern. "It was nothing. I am thrilled to be of help to you. Now, I must know more about you. Tell me all about yourself and how you came to be here."

These were magic words to Meredith. She had found a captivated audience of one, and a very handsome one at that. And he was asking about her favorite subject to discuss: herself. It was one of the most pleasant luncheons she'd ever had in her life.

* * *

Two hours later, Tane found his boss still seated at the table, nursing a drink with a look of deep concentration on his face. Long familiar with Grollet's moods, Tane sat and waited. He didn't have long, this time.

"She is back to the hotel?" Henri inquired, not looking up from the swirling liquid in his glass.

"Yes. Safe and sound."

"She doesn't know anything. He lied to her about being in meetings today, but she believes it. It's possible he's lied to her about everything, if he's willing to lie about his whereabouts."

Tane just grunted. Nothing needed to be said. They both had harbored suspicions of the man, but without any tangible leads it was hard to know what to do.

"Has there been anything off the wiretaps from the hotel suite of his mother?" Henri asked next.

"No. Nothing. They discuss mundane, inane topics. Nothing even close to what he's been doing for ten years."

"That alone seems incredulous. Surely there would be few other topics to discuss. They must suspect something."

"If they do, they've made no efforts to remove the bugs. Wouldn't they get rid of the listening devices?"

"Ah, my friend, you have no concept of duplicitous actions. You are so fortunate that I was on that ship those years ago, that I took you under my wing. They've left them as they don't want us to know that they know that we're listening in. They talk about random things to make it seem as though they're relaxed and comfortable in their room, while they probably write down their real plans."

Henri looked into the distance, unfocused on the immediate surroundings for a few minutes.

"Are you sure he's not with the lawyer?"

"Absolutely certain. Tutomo arrived on the ferry from Mo'orea mid-morning, alone. He's been seen being interviewed by some press, had a late lunch with Rodger's mother and is now speaking on the phone with some of the US embassy personnel in Suva, Fiji. No Rodgers in sight." Tane had personally followed the man around, then listened to his phone call on the tap they'd established. He'd been alone.

"Hmm. I don't understand what they are trying to….wait a minute. Did you say Tutomo came from Mo'orea this morning?"

"Yes."

"When did he go over? He was here very late last night, according to our sources. They saw him go into his hotel room."

Tane was quiet; he had no answer.

"Dammit, he must have gone over very early this morning. Those idiots must have lost him and didn't even know it."

Grollet slammed his glass on the table. He had enough to worry about without all this Rodgers business. The man had been a problem ten years ago. He was even worse news now.

"Find out when Tutomo went to Mo'orea, and if he was alone. If he wasn't, we need to find out if Rodgers is on Mo'orea. If he isn't, well, then I don't need to tell you we've got a problem. Prepare at least two boats and notify the coast guard. He'll not escape from my grasp. Not this time."

* * *

Afaitu sighed. He was tired, sure. He'd been up early to help shift Rick and Salesi over to Mo'orea, then ultimately onto Ari'i's ship with Tamahere. The deep fatigue he was feeling now was more psychological, rather than physical. He felt like he was walking a razor thin wire with any misstep leading to disaster. It was exhausting, constantly in fear of saying or doing the wrong thing. And he still had to get through several more days before the truth came out. If they found Kate. If she was safe. If, if, if. A word that dominated his life unlike any other. Two simple letters. Giant repercussions.

He'd just finished up some interviews, which were hard enough to get through without slipping. Then Martha had somehow pinned him to the mat during lunch and gotten him to agree to let her translate the numerous pages Rick had written while Afaitu had been in the States. He wasn't sure why, but he was nervous about this project.

Of course, he trusted Martha. She was Rick's mother, after all, and if not for her, Rick would still be in Nuutania. It was just that the story Rick was writing was likely coming to some interesting times, now that the initial survival needs of he and Kate had been met and they'd settled into a routine. What shocks and surprises lurked inside those loose papers, ready to nudge Martha into a course that flirted with disaster for them all?

Perhaps he wasn't being fair to her. She was a very successful figure; she was not apt to fly off the handle and act irrationally. Yet, this was her son. And his wife. And who knew what they were doing or how they were acting in those pages.

He stewed about it all through his telephone meeting with some American embassy officials. He'd headed back to Mo'orea, and his office, to place the international call. The nearest consulate was in Suva, Fiji, which was a real drawback. The process for obtaining a passport for someone declared dead by their home country was convoluted, and to not be able to meet in person was difficult, to say the least. Plus, he'd need to do it twice, though he couldn't yet reveal that.

A few hours later, safely ensconced back on Tahiti and in his hotel room, he finally relaxed. This long day was finally coming to an end. Disaster hadn't rained down on them, and the search for Kate was off to its surreptitious start. Hopefully successful surreptitious start.

The knocking on the door startled him off the bed where he'd slumped down for just a minute. Whoever it was wanted him badly, as the knocking continued, loudly.

"Just a minute, just a minute," he called, slipping his trousers back on and trying to look a bit professional again. Why couldn't the world leave him alone for a minute or two?

"Yes, can I help you?" he asked, opening the door to the insistent interrupter. Only to find a tearful Martha Rodgers on the other side of the door.

"Martha, what on earth? Is it something with Rick?"

Shaking her head, she said, "No, nothing like that. Could I drag you to dinner? Please?" She looked around the room meaningfully. Clearly she wanted to share something, but wasn't willing to risk someone overhearing if his room was bugged as well. Which it probably was.

He couldn't say no, especially with how upset she seemed. "Sure, let me freshen up, and I'm all yours."

* * *

Thirty minutes they were seated in an out of the way booth in a little diner he used whenever business brought him to Tahiti. He knew the owner; had done some work for their family a few years ago, and in gratitude for his efforts, he was always given the secluded table they were now seated within. There was no way for anyone to eavesdrop on their conversation, and the owners let him stay as long as he needed.

After ordering some coffee and sandwiches for them both, he sat back and took a better look at the actress. She was pale, with evidence of tears in the recent past having tracked down her face. She seemed jittery, like it was taking all her effort to just sit in the booth with him. Clearly something was very wrong, and he was relieved she'd had the foresight to ask him out of his room. His respect for her climbed upward.

"Martha, what is it? We can talk here safely."

The red head took a gulp of air, then appeared to concentrate on breathing in and out without losing control. Afaitu's fear ratcheted higher.

"I-I went straight back to my room after our lunch. I started translating the papers Richard gave you right away." Her voice trailed off, and he felt the tiny hairs on his neck suddenly stand upright.

"What'd you find? What is it? I knew Rick was hiding something from us, but I didn't force the issue."

"I brought the laptop," she replied, reaching down to a bag at her side. It was shaped like a large purse, and he'd never have guessed that it contained a laptop as well. That was probably the intent.

She slid out her computer and booted it up, the harsh glare of the screen highlighting her wrinkles in the dim lighting of the booth. She looked old and worn. She looked how he felt.

"You need to read this," she told him, settling back against the booth after sliding the laptop towards him. "You need to read this and tell me what to do, because I'm at a loss."

Afaitu took a deep breath, willing himself to be calm. Though he'd not known Martha Rodgers long, he had a feeling it took a lot to rattle her this badly. It would be something about her son, obviously. Something not good. He turned the screen around and began to read.

* * *

"Oh, good lord," he whispered, mostly to himself as he finished reading what she'd translated so far.

Looking up, he saw her staring intently at him. "This is accurate? True?"

She nodded. "I checked it twice, went over the cipher again. It's accurate, else it would be a meaningless jumble of words."

Afaitu swallowed, feeling that familiar bleak, black despair creeping over him again. He'd thought everything was under control. More the fool he.

"Why didn't he tell us? Have you translated anymore? Maybe the baby doesn't make it."

"I did jump ahead in places, translate a paragraph here and there to find references. I have a grandchild, alive and well when he wrote this part of the story. As to why he didn't tell us, well, I think he tried to tell me about his difficulties before he left for the boat. He was terrified that something had happened to them. That he'd find an empty island, or worse that it had all been a figment of his imagination. He couldn't face the reality that not all might be fine and dandy."

"Then why tell us about Kate and not the child? What is the difference? I thought he trusted us."

"We all knew about Katie and the boat. He couldn't write their story without writing about her. And, he needed to tell us why he was so desperate to rescue her. I think he kept the baby quiet because of what I said. No one was expecting him to mention a baby, though in hindsight it's obvious that they spent ten years there and had very little in terms of contraception. I'm surprised none of us asked him directly about it. I don't think—I hope—that he would have outright lied, though I could be wrong. I don't know him as I once did, that is obvious."

Afaitu smiled wanly at her; she was clearly struggling with this new information. "Their baby would have been born nine years ago or so; hardly a baby now. Are there other children?"

"I don't know. He hasn't written that far. But, I would guess there are."

The lawyer slumped in his seat. "What are we going to do? This complicates everything."

"How do you mean? When I first read of it, my first thought was that Jim should know. I still think he should, but I'm afraid he'll fly here immediately."

"That might not be such a bad thing now; we need his brain to help me sort this out," Afaitu muttered.

"How does it change the fact that we need to protect them? It's just more people, not a change in the plan. Right?" Martha pleaded for him to agree with her, but he couldn't lie. Not now.

"It changes lots of things. When it was just Kate, I planned to get them somewhere safe, such as Ari'i's home, have a journalist we trust speak with them once she was determined to be healthy, and break the story. A child or children changes that dynamic."

She quirked her eyebrows at him, wondering silently how this changed that plan.

"First, any and all children will have no record of birth. At all. I'm not sure Rick and Kate will even know what date they were born on. Who knows if their calendar was accurate? How are we going to get passports for people who don't exist, born to people who were dead? It's one thing to be declared dead and then to be found alive; that's complicated enough. But to have no record of a person? It will take weeks, maybe months of red tape. We'll be stuck under their thumbs. A more dangerous situation, I cannot imagine."

"But if we've revealed who they are by then, surely it won't be so bad. The world will eat the story up. Grollet and his minions will be powerless in the face of the pressure from the world's interest."

Afaitu grimaced. "Yes, that would make them safe from Grollet. But, I'm not sure it's the best course of action. Tell me, how do you think Rick has adjusted to being back in the world?"

Martha was a bit confused by the sudden change of topics, but she trusted this young man. He didn't ask stupid questions.

"He's so focused on finding Katie, and I suppose his children, it's hard to say."

"You said earlier he wasn't the same man you'd known. What did you mean by that?" pressed Afaitu.

"Well, he's quieter. Withdrawn. He doesn't confide in me; that's obvious from today's revelations. I'm not sure he trusts me as implicitly as he once did."

"All true. What about his reaction to the people beyond our tiny circle?"

"He's not comfortable with them, though I think that's because he's terrified one of them will learn the truth and let it slip. Plus, he's been incarcerated for months in a horrible prison. That alone would change a man."

"You're right, it does change men," Afaitu agreed. "However, I'm not sure all of what we've seen from Rick is attributable to incarceration and the need to find Kate. I think he's focused so intently on that one task that he's been able to mask the rest. He's been alone with Kate and at least one child for ten years. Rick has the advantage of having been found and put back into society for the last few months, willing or not. Kate hasn't had that."

"And my grandchild…?" Martha trailed off as she began to grasp what he was saying.

"Would never have met another living being besides his or her parents. Would never have seen other children, besides any potential siblings. Would never have seen any type of technology, or a machine of any kind. Has never eaten anything beyond what they catch or grow. Probably has little to no concept of clothes or any textiles for that matter. Indoor plumbing. Artificial noise. Oh, I'm sure they've been taught to read and write. But they had no books. No pictures of the outside world to show the child what a monkey might look like, beyond what they could describe or draw in the sand."

Martha had brought her hand to her mouth again, tears coursing down her cheeks as she considered the tremendous psychological strain their discovery was going to engender.

"Surely Richard has thought about this? He wouldn't just uproot them without thinking about what it means!" she cried softly.

"I think all Rick has been thinking about was finding them, then getting them to safety. I doubt he's had time to consider much beyond that."

Martha sighed. "You're right. He's just reacting to the situation, not thinking ahead."

"That's where we must help him, Martha. You, me, Jim and Celeste. We must come up with a strategy to prevent further disaster."

"How?" she asked plaintively.

"I don't know, yet. I wish I could talk to Ari'i and Tamahere. They're both deep thinkers, and may have some considerations we've missed. But, you're right, we need to contact Jim. We must call him first thing in the morning. And perhaps when Ari'i phones in by satellite we'll be able to discuss the issue."

Martha reached across the table, taking his hands in hers. "Whatever happens, I want you to know how much I appreciate all you've done. Without you, Richard would still be rotting in that prison and I'd be none the wiser. Thank you."

Afaitu nodded slowly. "I just hope we can figure this next part out."

"We will. Nothing can stop us if we work together. Nothing and no one."

* * *

**Thoughts?**


	46. Chapter 46: Killing Me Softly

**This chapter is dedicated to Raq'uel85. She cracks me up with her exuberant reviews. Though I've not been great about answering reviews recently, I certainly appreciate all of them. One of my dogs is quite ill, and we're going to the vet again today—after a 4 day hospitalization. So, I apologize for what may seem as though I take you all for granted—I definitely do not, but all my recent time has been spend worrying over my baby.**

* * *

April, 2010

The elevator dinged, doors sliding open when they reached the floor that housed Martha's suite. Afaitu smiled to himself, remembering how Rick had come to hate the sound of a car arriving to this floor. It had seemed he attracted bad luck, at the time. It was no more than a series of poorly timed coincidences, but amusing still to recall his client's deepening dislike of the sound.

"We can call Jim in the morning. That way we have some time to process this new knowledge," he murmured as Martha fumbled in her purse for the keycard to the door. The hall was well lit, with nothing out of place. Yet, he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Something was wrong, though he could see nothing out of the ordinary.

He paused, letting Martha move just ahead of him, key now in hand. Turning slowly in a complete circle, his eyes swept over the apparent empty spaces. There was nothing and no one there, but his feeling of unease only increased. Afaitu was not a man easily frightened. Nothing here was out of place, and he might have dismissed the feeling as an overactive imagination. However, with the stakes as high as they were, and at a critical juncture, he would not ignore his body's way of warning him.

"Martha!" It came out sharper and harsher than he'd intended, but had the desired effect as she paused, about to slide the keycard home.

"Yes?"

"Something's off. Doesn't feel right. Come, let's go back to the elevators."

The pleading look in his eyes was enough for her. They turned and went back to the area next to the elevator doors. Martha turned to him, eyebrow quirked up in silent query.

He shrugged. "I don't know. I can't see anything wrong, but the sense of foreboding was very strong. I didn't want to take a chance."

"Darling, you don't need to justify yourself. I'm an actress. We rely on gut instincts constantly. But what should we do now?"

"Let's go down to the bar and get a drink. I need one, now, and we can decide what to do."

* * *

Martha motioned a hotel employ to her side when they reached the lobby.

"Darling, I was just about to enter my suite on the top floor, and I'm convinced I smelled smoke. I didn't see anything, but it was such a strong smell! Could you check it out for me, please? We'll be waiting in the Choco Latte Lounge."

She sashayed off, leaving a bemused Afaitu in her wake and an alarmed employee who scurried off to deal with the potential disaster. Martha was waiting for him near the entrance to the bar when he finally caught up to her.

"Smoke? What brought that on?"

"Fire is the greatest fear of any hotel. They'll send several people to check it out, including a thorough inspection of my suite. If anything is amiss, we'll find out shortly."

Afaitu shook his head in amazement. This wonderful woman continued to impress him at every turn. It was truly remarkable, the people Rick Rodgers had helping him out.

They found a table in a secluded corner and ordered, before Martha stood and went to seek out the restroom. Afaitu was nursing his cocktail a few minutes later, when he sensed an approaching presence—one that quickly slid into the chair opposite him. Looking up, the greeting he had intended for Martha died on his lips when he saw that the person who'd joined him was very definitely not Rick's mother.

_Shit_.

* * *

"Capitaine?"

Stephane Tissot stood unhearing, unseeing. He was still rehashing the conversation he'd just had with the Vice-Amiral, the man in charge of the French Navy in Polynesia.

"Capitaine? Monsieur?"

Shaking himself free from his reflections, he realized most of the crew on the bridge were staring at him.

"_Oui_. Sorry. I have new orders from Vice-Amiral Evrard." Consulting his navigation maps, he quickly barked out the orders. His men were far too well trained to complain audibly, but he heard a deep sigh or two as the large ship slowly turned nearly 180 degrees. He felt like joining them.

They had been less than a day out of Papeete, headed back to port after several weeks patrolling the gigantic perimeter demarcated by French Polynesia. It had been an uneventful tour, as expected. Honestly, this stretch of ocean was quite peaceful. No one ever expected, for example, New Zealand to suddenly lose their minds and invade, though the Cook Islands were their nearest neighbors. Hardly anyone lived at Pitcairn, so the British protectorate didn't really count.

No, generally a patrol was all about looking for vessels in distress and watching for illegal activity. It wasn't stressful, per se, but when within hours of being home, one naturally expects to have the comforts found only on land waiting. The anticipation is exquisite torture, now made exponentially worse by the fact that they'd been ordered on this foolish venture.

Inwardly grimacing, Stephane realized there was no helping it. The Vice-Amiral had received his orders directly from the President. While Grollet was not technically in charge of the naval forces, a position Sarkozy retained of course, he had a lot of influence. He was, after all, present on the same island as their port. And they were 16,000 kilometers from Paris. Give or take a few hundred.

He just hoped this wild goose chase didn't take long. He'd been given very little information as to why this particular cargo ship was so important, just that he must find it and figure out its course. It seemed simple enough. Perhaps if God were good they'd be back in port within the next two to three days.

The good Capitaine might have given in to his frustration and sighed out loud like his men if he'd been given a glimpse of what was to come.

* * *

"How long do you think he'll stay out there?" Ari'i wondered.

"I don't know. He's got to be cold. He's been there for a few hours now," Tamahere replied.

"I kept thinking he'd stand there for a bit, then come back to the main quarters. Get something to eat, warm up. But he hasn't budged."

Tamahere shrugged. "He's changed. We all have, but Hopo more than the rest. I've read his story, at least the beginning, and while I understand on some level what she means to him, I cannot fathom spending ten years with someone then being ripped away."

"Still, what good does it do him to stand up there in the bow, catching his chill? We're on our way to her; surely it makes no difference where he is?" Ari'i couldn't wrap his head around why his former crewmate would simply stand in the exposed bow for so long. They had days to go until they reached the island he'd identified on Google Maps. There was nothing to see, yet.

"He feels closer to her," rumbled a deep voice behind Tamahere and Ari'i. Startled, they both half turned towards the voice. Salesi stood, looming over them. He just blinked at their attention, nonplussed. He knew he was right. He knew Rick far better than they, at least this Rick.

The three of them were standing on the bridge of Ari'i's ship. They'd been underway many hours, and Ari'i always liked to be in charge of the initial part of any new journey. He was a very conscientious captain, as he'd been taught to be by Anapa.

Neither Tamahere nor Ari'i knew quite what to make of Salesi. He'd boarded with Rick, and the two seemed to be close, but the large man was so quiet, they'd finally given up on trying to get him to talk and simply ignored him after an hour. With Rick ensconced on the bow, Salesi had, for reasons known only to himself, decided to shadow Tamahere. And since Tamahere had decided to join his old first mate on the bridge, so had Salesi. Though until just now he'd been silent as a statue.

"Closer to her? What does that even mean?" wondered Tamahere after Salesi made no sign of continuing the discussion. Both men continued to look expectantly at the titan behind them. Expectantly enough that he finally gave in and answered the question.

"Bow is closest part of ship to island and Kate. So, bow is where Rick goes."

Tamahere reflected on this reasoning, and decided the man was undoubtedly right. Turning to Ari'i, who still looked unsure, he realized that his old shipmate and new captain didn't really know more than the bare facts of Hopo's story. There hadn't been much time to tell him, and they'd not wanted to compromise security by telling him most of it before they'd cast off.

"Are you at a point where you can turn the bridge over to someone else?" inquired Tamahere. "I think it's time we caught you up on this mission."

* * *

They met Ari'i in the lounge of the ship, a room that would have been called the saloon on the _Iriata_. Ari'i would brook no such name for his ship, the _Vaitiare. _Too many bad memories of the last minutes he'd spent in the saloon of the _Iriata_, confronting Grollet over his role in injuring Anapa.

The _Vaitiare_ was larger than the _Iriata_, though still a cargo ship. Most of his runs were necessary supply runs to his home islands, the Marquesas, from Papeete. Being larger, the _Vaitiare_ had a separate dining room. She also had more dedicated cabins for passengers, though on this trip there were none beyond Hopo, Tamahere and Salesi.

Meeting the others in the lounge thirty minutes after they'd left him on the bridge, Ari'i found Tamahere holding a sheaf of papers. Salesi was already seated in a large recliner, reading his own copy.

Tamahere handed him the packet. "I printed these this morning, before Hopo and Salesi arrived on Mo'orea. I knew we couldn't tell you the details about this trip until we were underway; too many ears pricking towards Hopo. However, you need to know what the rest of us know. Why we do this. Why Hopo is as he is, out there still in the bow without any thought but of Kate. What the stakes are. We knew you would help, without question or comment, but you deserve to know what is happening. These papers will tell you."

Ari'i took the proffered pages silently, then glanced at Salesi. "He doesn't know either?"

Tamahere shook his head. "He knows some, not all, of the story. Hopo does not confide in others easily. He trusts Salesi, but was not sure of the story remaining quiet in the close confines of a prison. Salesi knows the bare facts, but this packet broadens the story by many brush strokes."

"It looks thick," Ari'i complained. He had a ship to run, and time for reading was not a top priority.

"It's worth the look, Ari'i. Besides, Hopo is a master at his craft. Give it a chance and you'll find yourself drawn into the tale despite yourself."

Grunting, Ari'i agreed to sit down. With both men now reading, Tamahere turned his attention to the next person on his list: Hopo.

* * *

Rick had completely lost track of time. He was lost in visions of Kate and their life on the island, when he gradually became aware of another's presence behind him. Well, not so much aware, as felt. As in Tamahere was shaking his left shoulder repeatedly while calling his name. Loudly.

"Hopo! Hopo!"

Rick turned slightly, indicating he was finally hearing the other man.

"What, Tamahere. What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong. Except you were ignoring me. What are you doing, anyway?"

Rick shrugged. "I just like being in the bow. You remember I spent a lot of time in the bow of the _Iriata_? Same thing."

"Except on the _Iriata_ you were writing. And you didn't spend the night out there."

"Spend the night? I've only been out here for an hour or so."

"Hopo, the sun is about to set. You've been here for many hours. Please, come back to the lounge or to your cabin. It's not safe to be out here past dark."

Rick was shocked when he saw how low the sun was behind him. He'd been so lost in his thoughts that a lot of time had passed without notice.

"Ok, I'll come back. But I don't really want to talk to anyone tonight."

"That's fine. I wanted Ari'i and Salesi to know what you'd gone through those many years ago, so I've given them the start of your story. It will take them most of the evening to read it."

Rick nodded. They needed to know; he'd have to tell them the rest soon.

"Maybe we can all meet in the morning and talk about some things?"

"_E_, yes. It is much better to know what is going to happen before it does. Get some rest, my friend." Tamahere saw Hopo back to the stern, then watched as his friend shuffled to his cabin. Worry over Kate was still all-consuming. Tamahere hoped that a few more days at sea and they'd be in a position to eliminate the worry.

* * *

The next morning saw the four men retreat to the lounge after breakfast. Ari'i had a wonderful crew, the sea was smooth and there was nothing else happening more important than discussing what they would be facing.

Hopo remained quiet and pensive. He didn't appear to have slept well at all, though that was his usual look since being found floating on a dilapidated boat. Tamahere sighed, and addressed the other two.

"You have finished reading the story?"

They both nodded. They now knew as much as he did of Rick and Kate's life: up to the day the two had married. Given that this had occurred in March of the year 2000, there were still nearly ten years of life lived with just the two of them to cover. Tamahere turned his attention back to Hopo.

"My friend, I know you spent a lot of time writing your story while in prison. I've transcribed all the events up to your beautiful beach wedding with Kate. And I know there was much more written, but I didn't have time to transcribe it. What else happened on that island?"

What else happened? A simple question, loaded with so many answers. The most basic answer was that they'd survived. The most abstract was that they'd loved, lived. And in reality? Reality was hard to face. There'd been triumphs and tragedies. Celebrations and grief. But underneath it all had been there love.

Rick looked up, saw the other men staring at him. He needed to tell them. Just as he opened his mouth, a crewman ran in, looking appalled at the interruption.

"I'm so sorry, Captain. There's an urgent call for you, on the satellite."

Ari'i leapt up; the others not far behind. Rick immediately thought of Grollet and how he might be tracking him. Was this more interference? What else could go wrong on this rescue mission?

* * *

Rick had made his way back to the bow after Ari'i had run to the bridge. Tamahere had gone with the captain, but Rick couldn't bring himself to follow them. Any urgent call was likely to be bad news, and he had no desire to hear of anything that would interfere in his rescue of Kate at the moment.

He closed his eyes, effortlessly recalling the sound of her voice, the way the sun turned her hair into various shades of brown. The way her eyes met his and knew what he was thinking. Her smile. God, her smile. It made him weak in the knees every time she graced him with one.

Lost in his memories, he nearly missed the subtle change in direction as the _Vaitiare_ angled starboard. It was enough of a difference that it immediately halted further musings of his wife. Turning to the stern he peered at the bridge, but the distance and glare of the sun prevented him from seeing anything.

He turned back to face forward in the bow. Looking back at the sun, he saw they were continuing to angle starboard from their previous course. Something was wrong. They were altering off the path that led straight to Fenua Pari, their island.

Furious, he spun back to the stern and stalked towards the bridge. He couldn't imagine what had caused them to change their course, and without consulting him first! He would change it back, no matter the argument. Kate was the priority. Everything else was superfluous.

* * *

Ari'i and Tamahere were still on the bridge, looking grim. Rick paid no mind to their emotional state.

"Why have we changed course?" His voice was harsh, angry. The other two men glanced at him, then ignored him as Ari'i quietly gave some instructions to one of his crewmen.

"What is the meaning of this? I demand to know what is happening."

Tamahere turned to him and gave him a warning look. "Go to the lounge, Hopo. We will join you there momentarily."

"Not until you turn back to the original course. Now." He wasn't going anywhere.

Tamahere flashed his own warning look at him. He continued to speak softly, but the admonishment in his tone was obvious to Rick. "Go downstairs. This is no place to discuss this right now."

Rick felt rage flood his entirety. They had no idea what they were doing, who they were dealing with. He was no mere child, to be dismissed like this. There was no more important task than rescuing Kate, and he would not let this happen. Not if he had to take them all out and steer the damn ship himself.

Tensing, he was about to release his tirade at the entire room when he felt a large hand clamp down on his right shoulder, pinning him in place.

"Come, friend. We'll wait in lounge." Salesi's iron grip gave him little option. Willing or not, it seemed he was going to the lounge. Once there, Salesi plopped into a chair, while Rick paced back and forth. If he'd had a tail, it would have been swishing angrily around him.

"Do you know why we changed course?"

"Yes."

"Well, then, care to explain it to me?"

"No."

That stopped him in his tracks. "Why not? Surely I deserve to know?"

"Wait for others."

"Well, how long are they going to be?"

"Until they're done."

Rick growled at this point, but they both knew it was just posturing. Even enraged, Rick was no match for Salesi. Rick resumed stalking around the room, while Salesi sat looking bored in his chair. Without their weeks together in Nuutania, Rick might have suspected the big man was uncaring. However, he knew the blank look hid a complex, sentimental man. And he was Rick's friend, having proven himself over and over. If he said wait, he had a reason.

At this point, Rick was well beyond logical thought when it came to matters involving Kate. So, he trusted in his friends. Didn't like it, but knew it was his best option.

Ari'i and Tamahere joined them eventually. If you asked Rick how long it took them, he would say it was hours later. Salesi would say ten minutes. It was all relative to your perspective.

Rick didn't even let the other two sit down before he burst out with his demands and questions.

"Why are we off course and what is going on? I want us back on the original plan, unless you can explain what the hell is going on."

Ari'i sighed, rubbed his forehead and sat down. Tamahere chose a chair as well, then looked at Rick expectantly.

"Hopo, sit down. Let us explain what has happened before you jump into the deep end. There is a good reason for what we have done."

Rick muttered some choice words, but obeyed the command in Tamahere's voice. Once seated, he glared at both Ari'i and Tamahere, silently exhorting answers. Tamahere glanced at Ari'i, then opened his mouth. Ari'i was the captain of this ship, but Tamahere had been the one to start this whole operation to rescue Hopo. If he would listen to anyone, it would be to him.

"The satellite call was from Afaitu. He had an urgent message and new instructions. He could not remain on the phone long; it is possible to track them, though difficult. However, we have reason to believe that it is a true danger. We will not speak to him again via the phones without the direst emergency."

Rick absorbed the words, playing them over in his head. "What was the message?" He was afraid to hear it, but it had to be said. Nothing could proceed until he knew what was happening, why they had altered course.

"It seems that Grollet has activated the navy to look for us. They are trying to track us. He is suspicious of what is happening. And we are to meet another ship along this new course."

"Meet another ship? What is the purpose of that? What is Afaitu playing at?"

"The other ship will serve to mislead them; they won't be sure which you are on. And a much longer message will be brought to us by that ship, explaining in detail what has happened."

"How will that be accomplished?"

"He didn't explain, but there is presumably a courier of some sort on the other ship. We can be seen shuttling people back and forth by our tenders. It will at least confuse any observers in terms of what ship you're on, and will enable us to get the message."

"When do we meet them? Do you know the ship? Are they trustworthy?"

Ari'i waved away Tamahere's stuttered start; he was best qualified to answer these questions.

"We are very, very fortunate here. I had given Afaitu a list of captains and their boats that are trustworthy, in my opinion. It was not a long list, but included the _Oriata_ and her captain, Reva Giroux. He is an old friend, and happens to supply the Australs, as I do the Marquesas. He was to be in Raivavae yesterday, and he'll be the one meeting us. It should only be a detour of some fourteen hours or so."

Rick grimaced at the delay, though he knew it would have been far worse if they'd been forced to go all the way to Raivavae, or worse—backtrack towards Tupua'i.

"And then?"

"Reva will be empty at this point. He's agreed to head east with us, though on a different course. Any followers will be forced to choose between the two of us. The _Oriata_ is newer than the _Vaitiare_. Better equipped, faster. Many would assume you choose her."

"The might of the French navy, at least that portion commanded by Grollet? They can easily follow both of us."

"Yes, that is true, Hopo. But at least there will be some distraction. Perhaps we'll get lucky." Tamahere wanted to soothe his friend, who he could sense was still quite upset.

"I sure as hell hope there is more to this plan than adding another ship to the mix. Otherwise, we'll lead them straight to her." Rick spun on his heels and stomped out the door.

"You didn't tell him the rest." It wasn't a question from Ari'i. Just a simple observation.

"He didn't give me time. Nor is he in a frame of mind to hear it. He won't have a choice, once we meet the _Oriata_. And you know as well as I do it's likely our only chance of saving her life." Tamahere was heartily sick of being in the middle of such high pressure, high stakes situations. It was not good for the ulcer he thought he was developing. Or his blood pressure.

Yet, in the end, there was no question as to their actions. They found themselves once again being ground against a rock, with only one possible way to salvage the situation. Hopo might not agree, initially, but to keep Kate safe he would come around. They would have to make him see reason.

* * *

**Appreciate any comments you wish to leave me. **


	47. Chapter 47: No Man Is an Island

**This chapter is dedicated to Morgan. She taught me so much, including patience, why treats are imperative, and the importance of a good belly rub. She listened to my rants and was there with a soft, furry ear when I needed to cry. She got sick in May, and we really struggled along until two weeks ago when she took a sharp turn for the worse. I finally took her to Purdue, which houses the only veterinary school in the state, last Friday. There we discovered the unwelcome answer to her decline, and I made one of the hardest decisions I've ever made in my life. It was the right thing to do, as she was clearly suffering. However, it is never easy, no matter how clear the path is that you must take.**

**Dogs live a much shorter life than we humans do. Reflecting on her death this past week led me to an epiphany, of sorts. Every day of a dog's life contains joy and excitement. They are always happy to see you, willing to do whatever it takes to spend time with you. They love unconditionally. I think their short time on earth must be the key to their exuberance. They simply don't have any time to waste on hate and apathy. I wish I could remember that lesson and live my life the same way, but I'm not sure as a mere human that I can achieve the same level. Nonetheless, I am willing to try. **

**So, today I celebrate the life of Morgan and invite you all to do the same. She loved Greenies and Busy Bones. Anything that seemed like a treat was special. She loved to take car rides, and was hailed as a sweet dog even by everyone she met. She trembled at thunder storms, but was indifferent to fireworks. She had such soft fur, it was a comfort to pet her. She slept in her own bed in my room, and I miss her tremendously. My house seems so empty without her; I suppose it matches the hole in my heart—the part of me that she took with her wherever she is now.**

* * *

April, 2010

The hours ticked away, slow as molasses to Rick. Each passing minute one in which he was just marginally closer to Kate, instead of the direct route he'd planned. It hurt, but the thought of rushing to her and bringing Grollet straight to Pereora was even more painful to contemplate.

It was well past dark when the lights of another ship were just visible on the horizon. Rick had been moping in the lounge, his long countenance inspiring looks of both sympathy and determination from the others. He was depending on them to get this right, correct the wrongs of the past.

When he heard the shouts of the crew indicating they'd seen the ship, he went bounding up to the bridge. Ari'i and Tamahere were already there, staring intently at the horizon, Ari'i handing Tamahere his binoculars after a long look.

He managed to remain quiet for 3 minutes; honestly it was 3 minutes longer than Tamahere had expected.

"How do we know it's them?"

Ari'i slid his eyes towards him, nodding his approval of the question. "It's the right size and on the right route. However, when we get closer there is a signal that Reva and I worked out long ago. No one else knows it."

"You won't risk the radio or Morse code?"

"No. Both easily intercepted. If the Navy is watching, and they likely are, we don't want to make it easy for them, do we?"

"True. I was just thinking we could send them some false signals to further confuse things. Something like "passenger ready to be sent over", or something like that."

Ari'i gave a short bark of laughter. "Hopo, you sure can be devious. Good thing you're on our side. We can do that, though not until they're closer."

They stood in companionable silence, as the ship that they thought was the _Oriata_ drew nearer. Ari'i now wouldn't share the binoculars. He was the only one of them who was familiar with the other ship, and hoped to recognize something of her before they were too close.

A deep breath indrawn made Rick look over at the captain. He was putting the binoculars down.

"Send the signal we discussed," he snapped at the other crewman on the bridge.

"It's them?" Rick hoped. Prayed. He couldn't stand the thought of further delay.

"It's them," Ari'i confirmed, powering down the engines even as he answered Rick's questions. They slowed markedly, to the point of a mere crawl.

"Now what?"

"Now we wait for their tender. And I want you to go hide in the lounge or a dark cabin. Do not go out on the deck for any reason."

"The navy can see that well?"

"They have much better technology than we do. While we can't see them, I am certain they can see us. I don't want them seeing you at all. They must wonder who it is in the tender, and if one of the people is the one they seek."

"Won't it be obvious?"

"No. Reva has a German man who sails with him. He's tall, with brown hair as well. No one would mistake him for you even from this distance. But from a naval ship far away? I doubt they'll have the resolution. Reva will send him in the tender with a hat and covering. I'll send one of my men back with them in the same get up, while the German is uncovered and pretending to be you."

"How do you know all this will happen? We didn't plan for all this."

Ari'i turned and grasped Rick by his shoulders. "Hopo, we are all fighting for you, for Kate. For Anapa and Hina. Afaitu knows about Reva's crew; he would have told him what to do. Trust in us. We want to fix this almost as badly as you do."

Rick felt as though he'd been flayed open by the sincerity in the captain's eyes. He looked down, ashamed at how much he continued to question them. Doubt was an emotion he'd lived with for so many months now, it was a permanent resident in his brain.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to impugn your efforts."

"We know that, Hopo. Believe me, I'm not sure I'd still be standing after all you've been through. But, you didn't get put into this position by yourself, and you can't fix it alone. We've got this. We won't let you down."

Rick couldn't help the tears that had filled his eyes. Wiping them furiously, he nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Ari'i turned back to the large vista the bridge window provided and watched as the _Oriata_ closed to within a football field or two.

"Hopo, it'll be a bit until they get here. Go down to the lounge; Salesi is there. I'll bring the message there immediately."

Rick nodded, knowing there was nothing to do on the bridge besides get in the way. The_ Vaitiare_ had internal stairs, so descending to the deck with the lounge was simple and unobservable.

It was dim in the lounge; Salesi sat in a chair with one lamp burning on the far side of the room. Everything was thrown into ghostly shadows, which fit Rick's mood well. Collapsing in a chair near his friend, he was prepared to sit in the gloomy room with only his thoughts rattling around his brain. So prepared, that he jumped when Salesi spoke.

"This is for the best, you know that."

It was a veritable speech for the man. And a little confusing, at that.

"I suppose. I know Afaitu wouldn't have diverted us unless it was critical. Still, it's hard. Waiting. Knowing I'm closer than ever, but still so far away."

"You need us to do it right."

"I know, I know. Ari'i already gave me that speech, and you're both right. I trust you all—I do. It's just…for months this is all I've thought about and now we're so close, I can taste it."

Salesi simply grunted, no response needed. Rick picked at the seam on his pants, worrying a loose thread as his stomach churned with worry. Maybe it was the dim lighting, maybe the quiet. Maybe the bulk of his large friend who'd saved him in prison, but he soon found himself whispering his deepest fears aloud. One's he'd not let himself even dwell on previously during his darkest days. Being so close to success had brought them floating up from the depths, and nothing could sink them down again.

"What if she's given up? It wouldn't be surprising. I've been gone five months now."

The thread was a bit looser, the seam separating by a stitch or two.

"What if something happened while I was away? She got sick, or injured? Or something happened to the kids?"

Salesi stirred at this last sentence, giving Rick a sharp glance that was completely missed as he concentrated on the stitching beneath his fingers.

"What if they ran out of food, or water. Or saw a ship? What if she tried to go for help?"

The stitching was really separating now, though it was strangely blurry. He wasn't sure why until a tear drop hit it, hunched over it as he was. Salesi remained silent, letting him cry. Letting him do what he needed to do.

"What if she isn't there? What if I made it all up? It was all some stupid fantasy in my head, none of it was real?"

"Rick."

He looked up at this, though it was hard to see the Samoan through the shimmer of his tears.

"Yes?" It sounded strangled, disconsolate even to his own ears.

"Where did you get your scars?"

"My scars?"

"On your left arm?"

"Well, from the bamboo I was cutting. But that could have happened without Kate there."

"What about your wedding band. Did you carve one and marry yourself?"

"What?! No!" A few seconds pass, as he contemplated this question. "No, no I didn't. I married her. I'm sure of it." His tone sounded wondering, hopeful now. He turned to Salesi. "Thank you. I needed that."

"You're welcome. And I think I can hear the tender coming alongside."

He was right. Muffled shouts and voices carrying over the water could be heard if you strained in the darkness to hear them. It was time to find out what had happened, why Afaitu had changed the plan. Rick suddenly found his mouth dry, not sure he could face the truth. But unable to move anywhere else.

Ten minutes later, the door to the lounge finally opened. Ari'i and Tamahere strode in, followed by three more men. Two were strangers. The third was all too recognizable. Rick felt as though his very soul had risen up and out of his body, watching the scene from above. Detached, he saw his body stagger upright as he stared at the man. Wordlessly, he gaped at him. This could not be happening.

Ari'i looked between the two. "I can see that Hopo knows who you are. Now that we are inside, do you mind introducing yourself to the rest of us?"

The man shifted, all eyes trained on him. "Certainly. I apologize again for the rush outside, but we needed to get under cover as quickly as possible. I am Marcel Laurent, from the AFP."

* * *

"Do you have everything?" Celeste asked, as she walked into their bedroom. Jim was zipping up his suitcase. Martha's call about what she had translated had changed everything, even before Afaitu added the news about Grollet and the French Navy. Things were moving far too quickly for him to be able to handle them from New York.

"I think so. It's hard to plan how long I'll be gone, or what I'll really need. Guess I'll figure it out as I go."

"I wish I could come too. I hate the thought of you there alone," she said, wrapping her arms around his waist. Holding him for a last time for who knows how long.

"Nothing would make me happier, but I won't be totally alone. Martha is in Papeete right now, and Afaitu as well. It'll be fine."

They both knew that Celeste needed to stay and run the company. There were several contracts in active negotiation, and one of them had to be available for their clients. However, he'd promised that she could join him if things went the way they wanted them to. It was a promise he wanted to keep so, so badly.

"You've got the numbers for the contacts?" he queried.

"Yes. I'm supposed to let them know when you get to L.A., and then Papeete. They seem very excited about this whole story."

"Well, they ought to be. It'll be huge. And now that the fury over that giant oil spill in the Gulf is dying down, they're looking for new stories. I hate that Katie will be the object of so much press, but it's the only thing that'll keep her safe. So, you need to stay here and coordinate everything. You're essential here, Celeste."

"I know, I know. Doesn't mean that I wouldn't love to come with you. You might need a woman's touch with some of the negotiations you'll be doing."

He smiled into the top of her hair. His wife was a fierce negotiator, and more than one opposing side had been fooled into complacency when they saw his petite and unassuming wife.

However, the elephant in the room was the fact that neither knew how Katie would respond when she found her father remarried and with stepchildren. Jim was hoping for the best—after all it seemed she was a mother herself. He still had trouble believing that not only was his beautiful daughter alive, she also had had a baby. He couldn't wait to see her, meet his grandchild.

And now that Grollet had set in motion the search for Richard and the cargo ship, Jim was not about to be left on the sidelines anymore. Clearly Grollet knew or thought he knew that Katie was alive. Jim's arrival in Papeete wouldn't give that away, not anymore. Plus, Jim had the knowledge they'd need about getting to a consulate and beginning the process of certifying that Richard and Katie were alive. His grandchild—grandchild!—would also need papers. This was an even more daunting task.

"I'll call you when I get to L.A." His layover was long enough that he'd have time for a quick meal and a call to his wife.

"Just be careful," she whispered to him, still clutching his waist and head buried in his chest.

"I will. I'm not the one in danger. It's Richard and Katie in the crosshairs, not me."

"I know, but I also know you. You'll go up against anyone who you think is threatening the ones you love. Just come back in one piece."

He chuckled, though it wasn't really amusing. There was some dark irony in the fact that Katie had fled New York to escape him—his drinking, his inability to function as a father. And now he was about to embark on a journey to recover her. She was the one in need of rescuing now. The two situations were not really similar—his had been of his own making, his own weakness—but it still struck him as funny, in a twisted way.

"I think my greatest danger will be when I finally see Katie again and have to tell her about my new life. She'll be…shocked."

"Surely she'll be happy for you. For how far you've come."

"Maybe," he replied, knowing in his heart that his daughter was not quick to forgive. And he had a lot to ask of her.

"Jim, it's been ten years. Surely she can't think you just stayed drunk that whole time. You put in the time to recover, found happiness again. I would think she'll be thrilled for you."

Jim just clutched her tighter. God, he was so glad he'd found Celeste. She'd really brought light into his dark world. He prayed she was right, that Katie would be happy for him. However, there was a niggle of doubt in his heart. One that couldn't help but wonder if it was possible to truly heal when one was completely isolated from the rest of the world for many years. Her last vision of him had been nearly unforgivable: drunk, uncaring. Now, he would be asking her to not only set that aside, but also to open her heart to his new family.

Jim thought that Katie would have a lot of emotions to express, but he was pretty sure thrilled would not be one of them.

* * *

Chaos took root briefly in the space after Laurent's announcement. Ari'i looked shell shocked, while Salesi looked even more menacing than usual. The two unintroduced men shuffled back upon seeing him, running into a card table and chairs and creating even more noise. Hopo was muttering over and over, "No, no. This isn't right. No, no." It was quite a scene.

Tamahere looked over at Salesi, who understood what he needed to do. Grasping Hopo, he shook him, hard. He stopped moaning, looking dazed and unsure of himself. Salesi pushed him into a chair, before joining him in the one next to it. Taking the opportunity, Tamahere organized the rest of the group.

"Gentlemen, this is clearly a shock. However, we need to discuss this turn of events. Please, have a seat."

The others shuffled around, finding chairs. The two men with Laurent chose seats as far from Salesi as possible.

"Now, Monsieur Laurent, please excuse your reception. We were all a bit taken aback to find that the press was joining us. Afaitu told us we'd be joined by one or two new people when we met the _Oriata_, but he did not tell us who they were or what role you'd play. You were not what we were expecting, at all." Tamahere remained nominally in charge, as Ari'i knew far less about the events of the last few weeks on Tahiti, and was happy to let Tamahere lead the way.

Laurent nodded. "He told me there wasn't time in the satellite call to tell you who was coming aboard. He warned me we'd likely be met with disbelief and confusion."

"Well, he was certainly right about that. We didn't know who was coming, but we assumed it might be reinforcements. Bodyguards, for lack of a better term."

"Then it is a good thing that M. Tutomo knew that we would be far more valuable to you than mere hired muscle. With my help, you can rescue Katherine Beckett and ensure her safety. Without my help, you have no guarantee of either," Laurent declared.

Tamahere glanced at Hopo to see how he was taking it all. He appeared to be nearly catatonic, though Tamahere was sure he was paying some attention to the newcomers.

"Well, I hope that your confidence is not misplaced. You say that you are key to the safety of Kate, but there are three of you. Could you please introduce the other two men with you and explain your plan to rescue Kate and fool the French Navy?" Tamahere's biting question demanded an answer.

"Yes, thank you. The tall, blond man is Julien Guilbert." A lanky man in his mid-thirties, skin dark from years in the tropics, raised his hand. He had an open, friendly countenance.

"He is my cameraman. We have worked together since I first came to French Polynesia, and he has lived here far longer than I have. The man next to him is Jean-Luc Loison. He is the production manager, and since we have no other crew with us will be the sound engineer, gaffer, and whatever else we need."

The other man was a slim, dark haired man with a neat mustache. He appeared to be in his early forties, and did not seem as friendly as Julien Guilbert seemed.

"Welcome aboard the _Vaitiare_, gentlemen. Now that you're here, may I ask what the hell you're doing here?" Ari'i was as curious as the rest of them as to what was going on, and felt he had the right as captain to be the most direct.

"I am sure this has all been a shock to you," Laurent spoke to the room, but his gaze was on Rick. "I have a letter from Monsieur Tutomo explaining the circumstances. However, perhaps I should explain the events that led me to his attention first. It will explain the steps we've taken since then."

Seeing no objections from the men gathered in the room, he gathered his thoughts. Rick Rodgers was not looking good. Pale, sweating. He looked like he was going to fall over at any second. There was simply no time to introduce any of this gently; events moved much faster than any of them preferred. It was react and move or be left with nothing. Rodgers had been through hell and back already. Marcel hoped he had a little more left to get through the rest of this journey.

"As some of you know, I am a reporter for the Agence France-Presse, or AFP. I was involved in the effort put together by M. Tutomo to free Rick Rodgers from Nuutania. Since the AFP is global, it is very difficult for the local government to control any aspect of our stories."

Various nods showed that they understood the background. It was an important point, as it underscored one of the reasons he'd been trusted with this assignment. Not by his bureau—they trusted any story he brought them. But by M. Tutomo. He needed their global reach to broadcast this story, and quickly.

"You understand, our job requires gathering information. Information that is sometimes desired to remain hidden by the parties involved. As such, we, like journalists all over the world, have contacts that let us know when they run across something they think we'll be interested in hearing."

More nods. Nothing said so far was unusual to anyone in the room.

"One of our contacts works at a high end restaurant in Papeete. This informant called in to let us know of a very interesting conversation they had overheard yesterday. It was a luncheon between President Grollet and one Meredith Harper."

Rick startled a bit at the name, but didn't say anything. Marcel wasn't sure he would have known that the man was even listening to him, as his eyes were trained on the floor and his affect was blank. The little jump at the mention of Meredith Harper's name gave him away.

"Nothing significant passed between them, though Grollet seemed very interested in how much Mlle. Harper knew about Rick Rodgers and his ten years missing. No, their meeting was not too intriguing. However, what transpired afterwards, when Grollet thought he and his henchman Tane were alone, was…quite intriguing. Once I heard the details, coupled with my gut instinct there was much more going on to the story of Richard Rodgers, and I decided to approach M. Tutomo with my findings. It was a fortuitous meeting, as we were each able to give the other what we needed."

"And what is it exactly that you provided to Afaitu?" Tamahere wondered. Clearly it had to be something very valuable, or else the man and his crew wouldn't be here.

"I think his letter to you will answer that question." Laurent reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. Handing it to Tamahere, he relaxed back into his chair, waiting for them to read the information so sorely missing up until now.

Tamahere opened the envelope with trepidation. He hoped everyone in Papeete or on Mo'orea was still safe. A desperate Grollet was a very dangerous Grollet.

_Dear Rick and Tamahere,_

_ Rest assured that we are still safe here in Tahiti. However, it has been an eventful day since you left. I will try and be concise, as time is limited. Martha begged to be given the job of transcribing Rick's story, and I reluctantly agreed. She hadn't gotten very far before she transcribed information that was very upsetting to her. She sought me out, after I returned from a long day of various meetings, and we discussed what to do about it. We'd decided to contact Jim, though not until the next morning. I was escorting her back to her hotel room when I determined something was very wrong near her door._

_ We went down to the bar and asked the hotel to check out her suite. While she was in the bathroom, one of the men with you now, M. Laurent, slid into the booth and told me he had information about Grollet. Martha returned within seconds, upset to find a journalist horning in on our private meeting. Before we could do anything, the hotel manager approached us in high dudgeon—Martha's suite had been trashed. The laptop and papers were in the safe, which they were unable to break into. However, there was extensive damage._

_ It was at that moment that Laurent encouraged us to go with him to a private meeting spot. Without many options, I agreed and we were ensconced in a soundproof room in an AFP annex within half an hour. It was there that Laurent told me he'd long been suspicious there was much more to our story, and that they've been investigating Grollet over various rumors and possible transgressions for years, but nothing has ever been proven. He then told us about Grollet's meeting with Tane in the restaurant and that they had activated the French navy, or at least the part they control, to look for you. They are determined to find you first, then to begin looking for whatever place you're going. _

_I cannot stress to you how dangerous this situation has become. No cargo ship on earth can outrun a naval vessel. Once they know your destination, they will rush there first. Your only hope, and Laurent agrees with this, is to get there first and find Kate. Laurent carries with him equipment that can access the AFP satellites. If you can find Kate, he can upload your story very quickly. This will be your only trump card that you can play against Grollet. Otherwise, I fear all is lost._

_I have shared Rick and Kate's story with Laurent. He knows all you know, perhaps more as he was also shown what Martha has transcribed. I do not know if Rick has shared anymore with the rest of you, but there are more people at stake than just Richard Rodgers and Katherine Beckett. I pray that you are successful in your journey and that you find Kate alive and well. We are confident that you will be triumphant over Grollet if you work together._

_Afaitu_

As he finished reading, Tamahere looked up to see Hopo staring at him, terror shining from his eyes. He seemed paralyzed by the information revealed in the letter. Tamahere could guess what it was he was holding back from them; it was fairly obvious to them all that Hopo was worried about more than just Kate. He'd nearly told them this morning, before they'd gotten the satellite call to alter course. But it had to be said now. They needed to know. And it was up to him to drag it all out into the open.

"Hopo, how many children do you have?"

The other men turned and gawked, as Hopo tried to gather himself to answer. He started to open his mouth once, then twice without success until Salesi reached over and squeezed his shoulder.

"Rick, just tell me. Tell me how many children you and Kate have together."

Hopo closed his eyes—grief causing his face to contract, the wrinkles from unmitigated stress from the last few months very evident. For a minute, no one dared breathe, watching as the man fought down the black forces struggling to tear away any hope he held. Eventually, he beat them back, though he didn't open his eyes. He just whispered his number, though it was so quiet the men on the bridge might have heard him.

"Three. We have three children."

* * *

**I would appreciate your thoughts. Sorry about the week without updates—I needed the time to myself. We will resume our regular schedule now.**


	48. Chapter 48: It's Getting Hot In Here

**This chapter is dedicated to wilker39. I hear from her on both twitter and on reviews here. Thanks for all the awesome support and great things you tell me. Love to know that you're enjoying the story. Today is her 53rd wedding anniversay, an accomplishment that not many ever achieve. Congrats, and best wishes for many years to come!**

* * *

August, 2000

Rick cursed, as the bamboo pipe he was trying to splice to his line split. He'd been working on this infernal idea for several weeks now. It was closer to being done, but every time he started to think he was making good progress, something would happen to destroy his good temper. If he didn't know better, he'd swear the fates were out to get him.

Frustrated, he threw the offending piece away and stalked around, muttering about bamboo and his conviction it was the wood that was fired eternally in hell.

He was standing at the side of their house. He'd been able to run the pipe from the waterfall to the house without problem, though it took a ton of breadfruit sap. He'd built a very sturdy frame to hold the water barrel. It rose to the level of the roof, positioned so that the window could still swing out all the way.

Neither the piping nor the frame for the barrel had taken more than a week to complete. However, he'd been obligated to stop working on the shower idea until he'd planned and finished the front porch to the house. Kate had been delighted, and he had to admit the wide veranda made a great place to sit at sunset, or early in the morning.

The reason he'd had to finish the porch wasn't for pleasure, however. His shower would be outside, and it made sense to place it to one end of the porch. So, he had to build the damn thing or else have a shower unattached to any structure adjoining the house.

He'd built the floor of the shower even with the porch, but with much wider bamboo slats to let water run through to the ground. The earth sloped a bit here, away from the house, so drainage wouldn't be an issue. And the whole thing was located on the north side of the house, so the water barrel would be exposed to the sun all day long. It wouldn't be hot, but it would be much warmer than the lake.

Now he was ready to finish this portion of the shower: he had the piping pretty much run up to the barrel. The water pressure from the waterfall ensured any issues from gravity were overcome; there was no problem getting water to come out this end. The problem was keeping it closed off when they didn't need any more in the barrel.

His other issue was exactly how to use the waterwheel and cog he'd fashioned from some supple bamboo. They would drive a little belt of rope from coconut fiber to turn the fan he planned to position over the bed. The wheel and cog didn't need the full force of the water from the pipe; a fraction would do. But how to split that off was escaping him, at the moment.

Cursing again, he thought about determining just how far a useless piece of bamboo could be thrown. A hand snaking around his middle halted those thoughts immediately.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, now," he smiled as he turned to face her. "Did I wake you up? I didn't mean to."

She'd been taking a nap, her late morning routine. She was now twelve weeks pregnant, and it was quite obvious. She wasn't large, by any means, but they were both rather thin due to their hard work and their very natural diet. The evidence of his child growing within her was hard to miss.

"Well, you sounded upset. What are you trying to do?"

He explained his two biggest frustrations to her. He'd learned that her brain solved problems very differently from his. They might not come up with the same plan, but they both had a knack for solving the issue, whatever it might entail.

She reached up with both hands, clasping them around his neck as his hands settled naturally on her hips. She tilted her head slightly.

"Hmm, I'll have to think on that. I might have some thoughts."

"Oh, really? Is there anything I could do to help the thinking process along?" He smiled down at her. Her morning sickness was nearly gone, replaced by a suddenly voracious appetite—for him. The last few days had been some of the best days of his life, sexually at least.

She reached up and kissed him thoroughly. Demanding he open his mouth to her, she wasted no time possessing his lips and tongue. He felt his body responding, as it always did for her. When she broke off the kiss, he was panting and thinking of nothing of more consequence than whether they should christen the new porch.

"I may need to be inspired," she whispered throatily, trailing one hand along his jaw.

"I can be inspiring. Or at least I've been told that."

"Really, by whom?"

"By my wife."

"Oh? And just how did you inspire her, may I ask?"

"Well, I put my arms around her like this," his voice deepened as he wrapped her in his embrace, hands running through her long hair.

"Then I kissed her like this." The kiss was just as passionate and demanding as hers had been. She melted further into his arms, the need to breathe the only thing that finally broke them apart.

"I can see why she might have found some inspiration, though I'm still not sure if it's enough for me."

"I thought you might say that. I knew when I saw you that you'd need the extra special treatment."

"Does that cost more?"

"There's a deal today." He continued kissing her in between comments, concentrating on her jaw and neck, which she stretched up so he'd have better access.

"Really? A deal? Sounds a bit dodgy."

"Satisfaction guaranteed."

"Well, if there's a guarantee, then I think I'd like to try the special. Let's see what you've got, mister."

There were no demands for a refund, though he was distracted for quite a while away from his project.

* * *

Rick was drowsing happily next to his wife in their bed an hour later. He might worry to death about the dangers of her being pregnant, but some of the other effects were quite…interesting. Kate was sleeping, facing him and completely adorable as she slumbered.

He'd just closed his eyes again when he felt her stir. She didn't even give him time to crack his lids open before she was half sitting and shaking him awake.

"I think I've got it, Rick."

"Got what?" He was a bit irritable at her way too perky tone.

"A solution. C'mon." And with that she was jumping out of bed, full of enthusiasm for whatever her brain had cooked up. He grumbled again; he couldn't string two thoughts together for hours after sex like they'd just had. He just wanted to lie in bed, recovering. But his pregnant wife had other ideas.

He found her on the porch by the shower, trying to climb up the frame of the barrel.

"Hey, hey. Just what do you think you're doing?"

"I need to see the end of the pipe. It's too high."

He grabbed her, lifting her down without effort. "You don't need to be climbing up there. I haven't finished stabilizing it yet, since there's no water in the barrel."

She huffed, not impressed with his protective display. "It's not that high."

He just looked at her, not willing to give in on this particular bone of contention.

"Fine, whatever. How long is the end of the pipe over the barrel?"

"About six inches. Why?"

"Couldn't you cut a piece off? About two inches should do. We can cap one end with the butt end of a small gourd and soak the other end in water, make it soft enough to slowly enlarge such that it fits over the end it was joined to previously."

"How does a gourd keep it from leaking?"

"You told me once that if breadfruit sap didn't dry out, that it would act like a piece of rubber?"

"Yes." He didn't get it. However, he could tell she was pretty excited about something.

"So, we fill the end of the gourd with breadfruit sap. When it's in place, blocking the pipe, the water will keep the sap from drying out. And when we need more water, we could just let the cap float in the barrel or something."

Rick considered the solution. It would work. Or at least it was worth trying. Leaning down, he kissed her deeply.

"You're a genius, Mrs. Rodgers. I don't suppose you have a solution to the water wheel issue as well?"

"Actually, I do."

"You do?"

"Sure. You don't want to use the main pipe, as it's too much water and would be wasteful, right? And, the fan doesn't need to run except when we're in bed."

Rick nodded.

"Simple, then. Just put the wheel outside of the barrel, to one side. Then use a small siphon pipe to suck water out of the barrel and onto the wheel. You could experiment with the size of the piping, but one of the newer shoots of bamboo that's still really supple ought to do the trick."

Rick stared at her in amazement. She'd solved both his issues with seemingly little effort.

"If that's the kind of inspiration I inspire in you, we ought to do that more often, Mrs. Rodgers."

She laughed. "Oh, I don't know. My husband might get jealous."

"It'll be worth it, trust me."

* * *

Finding the right gourd took several days, but the cap worked perfectly. He filled the barrel and they enjoyed a lovely shower together late the afternoon he finished the shower portion. It definitely beat bathing in the lake every day.

The water wheel took a bit longer, fits and starts of trying to get the right balance of water turning it, the rope belt moving properly and the fan adjusted. The siphon idea Kate came up with didn't end up being feasible. It was too difficult to position inside the tank relative to the position of the wheel.

So, the premiere of the fan was delayed another week. Kate had just started her second trimester and was anxious for the solution to be worked out. It was still quite hot, even in the southern hemisphere's version of winter. Rick thought of a potential answer, but decided to keep it a surprise.

After seeing the success they had with the gourd cap to stop the flow completely, he decided to make another cap that had a hole in the end. It dispersed water at a higher pressure, so they would ultimately waste less in running the wheel. He just needed to be able to move the pipe: it needed to be either over the barrel to fill it for showers, or over the waterwheel to drive the fan. This was fixed fairly easily, and he tried out his experimental solution while Kate was making dinner one night at the end of August. After seeing it worked very well, he decided to reveal the miracle of moving air that night.

Wandering back to the kitchen area, he found his lovely wife just dishing up their meal of a seafood stew and greens from the garden.

"Hey, handsome. Ready for dinner?"

"Yep, I'm starving. Looks delicious." He grabbed the plates from her and sat them down at their table. Kate followed with two glasses of water.

Rick grabbed a spoon and tucked into the stew first. One bite and he was assailed by a flood of different tastes…and not compatible ones. Swallowing carefully, he took a long draught from his water glass. His eyes were tearing up at the horrible taste, but when he looked over at Kate she was slurping the stew down like a starving prisoner.

"Umm, Kate?"

She hardly paused as she continued to inhale the vile concoction. "Hmm?"

"What kind of stew is this, anyway?"

She gulped a few more bites down before looking up at him, eyes shining. "Isn't it delicious? It's a new recipe that I thought of just today. I took some clams and fish, added tomatoes, onions, and taro. But, then I was craving something sweet too. So, I added some coconut milk and mashed up some of our new papayas."

Rick's stomach turned over at the mention of the papayas. They'd finally ripened and they'd been enjoying the fruit. He'd already started saving the seeds. The mangos would take a few more years to finally fruit, but yet another food source would be welcome. He shuddered to think what she might do with them.

"That's an…interesting…combination."

"I know. I feel like a genius. And it's sooo good."

"Well, I guess I don't have as sophisticated palate as you do. Do you want mine?"

"You don't like it?"

"Umm, I'm not as hungry as I thought I was. I think I'll just have the salad, instead."

He started to pick up his fork before thinking better of it. Picking up his plate, he sniffed the pile of greens suspiciously.

"So, Kate…did you add papayas and coconut milk to the salad too?"

She gave him the grin that always made him want to grovel at her feet. "Yep! It's my new secret ingredient."

Rick decided at that moment she was trying to poison him for not having solved the fan issue. He survived dinner because he didn't voice this suspicion out loud.

"Do you want my salad too?"

"Well…if you're not gonna eat it. Aren't you hungry?"

He handed her the plate. "Well, I was just thinking that maybe I should do a little less fruit. I'm not used to the papayas yet; I think I better stick with the combos that I know."

She looked askance. "Are you actually being picky?"

"No, not picky. I just don't have the same…taste…for the papayas that you apparently do."

"What does that even mean? I spent some time fixing dinner and now you won't eat it. Sounds to me like you're being picky."

"Kate, it's not a big deal. I think that you're having some cravings, due to the pregnancy, and it's just not appealing to me."

"So it's my fault you won't eat? That's rich, blame the pregnant lady."

"I'm not blaming…you know what? Forget it, this isn't worth talking about. I just don't like the stew, ok? It's not a big deal. I'll fix my own plate, you don't need to worry about making me something else."

Kate muttered darkly about something that he couldn't quite make out. Which he figured was for the best all around.

Tasting blood, Rick somehow kept his tongue in his mouth and his vocal cords immobile while he put together some diced fruit and fished some chunks of taro from the stew pot. By the time he had his meal ready, Kate was nearly licking her bowl of stew clean.

"Guess you liked it?"

"Yes, it just hit the spot. _I_ thought it was great. The salads were good too." She carried her plates back to the area they used to clean their plates, then came back to sit opposite him as he ate the meal he'd thrown together. A loud sigh made him look up at her: she was sitting on her stool, resting her head in her hands, which were the table opposite of his spot.

"What's wrong, Kate?"

She sighed again. "I was just thinking about something; it's nothing."

He put his fork down. "What is it?"

"Nothing, Rick. Really. Nothing you can help with, just forget it."

"What does that mean?"

"What does what mean?"

"Nothing I can't help with? I can help with a lot of…_things_, Kate." He waggled his eyebrows at her, attempting to get her to smile. It worked, though not as well as he'd have liked.

"Yes, you're good for _some_ things. I knew I kept you around for a reason."

"Why, Mrs. Rodgers, I never," he exclaimed, voice high and affronted in a false display of betrayal.

Kate laughed. "Ok, fine. But, it's petty and you'll make fun of me."

Rick's smile slid off and he looked at her as seriously as he could. "I'd never make fun of you, Kate. We might laugh together at silly situations, but I'd _never_ laugh at you."

Kate looked down at the table, then glanced up at him through her lashes. Shy and unsure, not emotions she often displayed. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to accuse you of anything. It's just another dumb craving."

"A craving? For what?" He hoped it wasn't papaya combined with anything else.

"Chocolate," she exhaled, the word a whisper in the air. Chocolate was one of the many items they didn't have. And couldn't make.

"Chocolate what?"

"Everything. I don't even care. Remember those chocolate samplers you'd get at Valentine's day? Chocolate bunnies at Easter. Hershey's kisses. Hot fudge. Snickers. Chocolate chip cookies. Chocolate ice cream. Choco.."

"Um, Kate?" he interrupted.

"What, Rick?" She was not amused by the interjection, and her tone was frosty.

"I think you've got some drool on your chin." When she reached up to check, he laughed so hard he nearly fell off his stool. It was even worth the smack she gave his shoulder when he wouldn't stop laughing.

"You think you're so funny. I'm the one carrying the baby, the one with the messed up hormones, and you're trying out your stand-up routine. That sure seems fair, doesn't it?" She didn't expect an answer, and he wasn't dumb enough to give one.

"I'm sorry we don't have any chocolate. But, if you're craving something sweet, I think I can help."

She looked at him, assessing his mood. He might be serious. And he might be a smartass. But, her sweet craving won out over her caution. "Ok, where?"

"C'mon over here."

"You don't have anything, do you?"

"Yes, I do! C'mere, Kate. C'mon."

Reluctant steps made their way to his side.

"Well? I'm waiting."

"Close your eyes."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't trust you."

"Whaaa? My wife says what exactly?"

"You're untrustworthy when it comes to food."

"Have I ever led you astray?"

"Well, there was that one plant that you swore was just like corn, then.."

"Ok, ok, I've been slightly off on a few things. But, this is sweet. And I didn't say it was food."

He gave her a megawatt smile, the kind she was a total sucker for. Closing her eyes, she waited: tense, at the ready for anything. The slight brush of his lips across hers was the only sensation he produced. And he was right—it was very sweet. It just wasn't chocolate.

* * *

"You ready for bed?" he asked after the dishes were done.

"I guess." Enthusiasm was entirely lacking from her response.

"Wow. I guess the honeymoon is over."

"The honeymoon was over as soon as you knocked me up and I got morning sickness."

"Ok, I can see your point there. Why don't you want to go to bed?"

"Because it's hot as crap and it's making me cranky. And there's no need to agree with that statement, by the way. I'm sorry I'm so irritable, I just can't seem to help it."

Rick heeded her advice and remained silent.

"I'm way too hot to go to bed; I'll just lay there in a puddle of sweat and get even crankier. Do you think we could take a swim first?"

"Anything for you, Kate."

They always swam naked now; it wasn't worth the extra laundry that swimming in clothes would bring. Honestly, it was more fun to skinny-dip. They walked back to the house to shed their few clothes, then made their way down to the lake. While the water was far from being chilly, it was cooler than the humid night air of the island interior. It felt heavenly to Kate.

Later, as they made their way back to the house, she decided she might have to incorporate a bedtime swim into her typical routine as her pregnancy advanced. It was still hard to fathom just how hot she would be as the baby grew.

They had just gotten settled into bed when she felt Rick sit up again. His change in position started the bed rocking slowly; it was a sensation she'd grown used to over the last month or so, and now enjoyed a lot.

"What's the matter, Rick?"

"I just remembered something I left outside."

"Get it in the morning. I'm comfy."

"Nah, I don't want it to get rained on."

"It probably won't rain tonight. Dry season, remember?"

"True, but it does rain on some nights. And I don't want it to rain on this thing."

"Fine, but if I get too comfy without you, you'll find the couch is empty."

They both knew it was probably a false threat, but it was a possibility. He'd been kicked out of the bed before.

"I'll be right back, promise," he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

"Hmmph, better be," she muttered.

Rick walked casually to the door, then snuck around the porch to the water tank. It was time to try out the fan idea. It'd worked earlier, but one never knew what would happen when you tried to demonstrate a new system in front of the boss. And Kate _was_ the boss. No question.

He slipped the new cap on the end of the pipe, then positioned it so it sprayed the wheel. He then nearly sprinted back into the house to see how she reacted.

"That was fast. Did you rescue your thing?" her voice was slurred with sleepiness.

"Huh? Oh, uh—yeah. Got it."

"Aren't you coming to bed?"

He was still standing, watching as the fan slowly began to turn, moving faster and faster as the momentum of the wheel grew until stable with its supply of water. It worked perfectly. He crossed his fingers behind his back, knowing there was still a lot that could go wrong.

"Yeah, just a minute."

"What are you doing now, Rick?"

"Nothing. Just wait."

"At least there's a nice breeze tonight," she murmured, head down in the pillow.

"There's no breeze, Kate. It's absolutely calm outside."

"No, there's a breeze. Come lie next to me, you'll feel it."

"I was just outside. I'm standing next to a window. There's nothing moving, promise."

"Well, something is moving the air over the bed. I can feel it very well now. It's great."

"Kate, I swear there's no wind outside."

"Well, then Rick, how do you explain…oh. OH. Rick!"

He laughed at her expression, as she finally realized what was causing the cooling current. He delighted in her joy, and in the fact that his two hands and brain had created this for her; made her happy for a short time during a difficult transition.

"Do you like it?" he had to ask, climbing into bed next to her. She leaned over and kissed him softly, one hand pressed on his chest.

"Like it? I love it. Thank you so much," she whispered. Words he loved to hear from her lips. Words he'd drive himself ragged trying to live up to, for many years to come.

* * *

**Ok, so I've been told by an engineer that the fan/waterwheel as Rick built it wouldn't work. The loss of water pressure over the distance from the waterfall would result in a system that lacked the pressure required to turn the wheel. I apologize, but I couldn't come up with a better solution, and since it's the only a fan, I figure y'all will forgive me. I hope.**

**Thank you to everyone who sent me best wishes and love after I dedicated my last chapter to my dog, Morgan. I'm doing ok. It gets better every day, and I can think about her without crying now. It was so wonderful to have so much support and caring shown by everyone. This fandom is truly the best.**

**Would love your thoughts on the latest.**


	49. Chapter 49: How You Rock My World

**This chapter is dedicated to Atheatahiti. My first (known) review from French Polynesia! So appreciate the advice, and I'd love to hear more from you—private messaging is fine. Your line that this story could have been written by a Polynesian floored me. I am so humbled and thrilled that I've gotten the flavor of the country at least partly correct. I'm dying to visit, so last night I checked airfares. Now I'm dying of sticker shock. Wow.**

* * *

August, 2000

"U2"

"Are you crazy? No way. I mean, they've been successful for a long time, but best ever? Not even top ten. Try again."

"Nirvana. No way you can say they weren't one of the best."

"Ok, I'll give you top ten. But top five? I don't see it. They weren't around long enough."

"C'mon, Rick. I was a grunger for a while. I'm definitely putting them in my top five."

"Fine, but what about Queen? You haven't mentioned them yet."

"Ooh, I love Queen. They're top five for me. You too?"

Rick nodded his head, then watched as Kate took a stick and added the band's name to both of their lists. It was a lovely day in early August. They were sitting on the beach on the exterior of the island. Two days had passed already, of a planned 5 day trip. They had several racks of fish drying, as well as a veritable salt making factory. The dry season would be coming to an end soon, and they'd wanted to take advantage of the (mostly) rainless days and nights.

With the next pot of seawater simmering on a flat rock next to the fire, Rick had challenged Kate to a "top five greatest rock bands ever" contest, writing their answers in the sand with a stick. When they couldn't agree on several groups, it had expanded to top ten. Currently, they both had Queen and Led Zeppelin as consensus top five. Rick had added Metallica to his lower list, while Kate had added Nirvana to her top 5 and U2 to the bottom of the list.

"What about the Stones, Kate?" Rick asked, reaching for the stick and adding them to his lower five.

Kate shook her head. "Nah. I've never really liked their stuff, though I realize I'm in the minority. But we need AC/DC on there, top 5 for me."

"Absolutely! Love their stuff. God, the opening to Thunderstruck gets me every time," Rick said, launching into an air guitar and trying to copy Angus' fingerings.

"Don't quit your day job there, Slash," Kate chuckled.

"Ooh, Guns n'Roses. How could I forget them? One of the greatest bands ever! And it finishes my top five!"

"Hmm, I'll say top ten for me, but not top five."

"Heresy, Mrs. Rodgers. Simple. Heresy."

"Whatever. Look, I'm just lacking one band for top five, and I know who I want."

"The Who?"

"No. No way."

"Journey?"

"Nope."

"It better not be New Kids on the Block or Backstreet Boys."

"Really, Rick? I know I'm younger than you, but I'm not crazy."

Rick fell to one side, clutching his heart. "Ouch, madam. That was a low blow." Sitting back up after he heard her laugh, he asked, "So, who is this vaunted last band to make it past your exacting standards?"

"Easy. Pearl Jam."

Rick jerked forward, clasping his hands over her lower abdomen. "Don't listen to her! Your mother doesn't know what she's talking about."

"Ha! I've got way better musical taste than you, plus you sound like a frog croaking out its last breath when you try to sing."

"I'm the first to admit I can't sing. Although your mother sounds like an angel," he added, talking to the growing bump above her pelvis. "Hopefully you'll inherit your mother's singing abilities and not mine."

Kate sighed, then laid back, looking up at the intensely blue sky.

"What's wrong?"

"We don't even have any music to play. How will this kid know anything about music if he or she never hears any?"

Rick pondered the question for a bit. It was a valid point. There'd still been no sign of a rescue party, let alone another boat. He'd known it might take a while for someone to find them, but he never imagined they might be here for years and years. With a baby on the way, he had to start thinking more long term.

If they were here for more years, the baby would grow. Eventually be old enough for school. He knew between himself and Kate they could teach the basics, certainly, and he could tell stories forever. But, what would the kid write on? How would they understand what a dog looked like without another mammal besides him and Kate on the island?

It was overwhelming when he tried to think that far ahead. Shaking his head, he decided he was looking too forward. Odds were they'd be rescued long before this baby needed an education, and if worst came to worst, they'd manage somehow. They had met every obstacle thrown at them so far, this would be just one more in many thousands.

* * *

"Have you thought about what you to do for your next project?" Kate asked later that evening. The sun had already set in a fiery display of reds and oranges. She was now cuddled up next to him on a driftwood bench they'd dragged to the firepit.

Supper had been fresh fish and seafood. If they'd been at Pereora, dusk often would find them sitting on the front porch that Rick had built when he was preparing for the outdoor shower. Kate had put together a very comfortable bench for them, and sitting on it with her next to him as they watched the sky go from blue to reds to black had become one of his favorite times of the day.

Most of the time they just talked of trivial, minor issues: things they'd done during the day, the little things that occurred during their time apart. However, they also often spoke of what they wanted to do, and sometimes of things they missed or people they wished they could see again.

The nights spent at the beach were of a similar flavor, except they were sitting on a log next to the fire. Their shelter had been easily erected again, with the various tarps hung back over the frame to help with weatherproofing. It was fine for a few nights, but Rick and Kate both agreed they were much happier with their snug new home.

Thinking about Kate's question, Rick was torn. He'd been wishing for a dock, so that they didn't have to drag the canoe out of the water each time. If he built it out long enough, they could fish off the end. And, perhaps he'd have time to start in on another vessel, a bigger one. He'd been thinking about catamaran design, and the advantages that a multi-hulled ship would have. A simple mast could be raised, and ultimately, if he built it properly, it would be able to be manned solo.

The advantages to being able to travel alone, in a stable boat, were not insignificant. He'd thought of several. However, the biggest one he ruthlessly suppressed: being able to leave the island to seek help if something happened to Kate or to their baby. Every time that particular thought bubbled up from below, he ruthlessly shoved it down again. It was not a consideration he ever wanted to entertain, so he merely ignored it.

"Earth to Rick. Hey."

He jumped when she added her elbow to her words.

"What was that for?"

"You were lost in your own little world. What are you thinking about?"

"I was thinking about your question. What's the next project." He pulled her tighter against him, staring once again into the dying flames from the fire.

"And?" she prodded. "You're making me nervous."

"Huh? Why am I making you nervous?"

"You keep avoiding my question, or at least don't seem to want to answer it. That makes me nervous."

He turned so he could look at her fully in the face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that. I was just thinking about all a project I've wanted to do for a while."

"So, tell me what it is that keeps getting you lost in your head and not here with me."

"A dock."

"A what?"

"A dock. You know, like to tie the canoe up to."

"That's it? A dock?" She burst into laughter. He loved hearing her laugh, but he was puzzled by her reaction.

"Why are you so amused by a dock? It could be pretty useful."

She continued to laugh for a few more minutes, until she finally got control of herself. "I'm sorry, Rick, but I wasn't expecting you to say a dock. You had me all nervous that you were thinking of building something crazy."

"Like what?" He was curious as to what she would consider crazy.

"I don't know. I couldn't imagine what it would be, but when you said dock, it just struck me as funny."

Rick pouted a little; just enough to get her to kiss him a few times to take away the sting.

"All better?" she asked after the fourth or fifth kiss.

"I guess. I was hoping my wife would be more supportive, but I guess not," he sighed, hoping she'd decide a bit more making up was due. He was thrilled when she moved one of his arms and scooted directly into his lap. This was a much better position, in his view.

"I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to laugh at your project. And a dock could be useful, like you said. But I was thinking about something that might be even more useful."

"Does it involve us returning to the shelter and losing the few clothes we're wearing?"

"Um, no. That can be on the agenda too, but I was thinking of a real project."

"Such as?"

"Well, wouldn't it be nice if we didn't have to canoe to the other shore? If we could just walk there?"

"Yeah, that would be nice. Not sure how we could accomplish it, but it would be nice."

Kate sat up so she could look at him directly, separating from her cozy position leaning on his chest. "Would some sort of suspension bridge be possible?"

Rick considered her words. "Where would you put it? It would have to go at the narrowest point of the lake, so either the entrance by the channel or by the waterfall."

"I was thinking the most convenient place would be by the waterfall. It's closest to Pereora."

"To be honest that might be the only place it could go. The channel that leads to the ocean is surrounded by rock walls, so it would be really hard to construct a bridge there."

"Do you think it's doable?"

Rick pursed his lips. The idea had merit; it was a pain to get in the canoe each time they wanted to go to the other side of the island. However, he wasn't certain that the labor savings would be worth the effort to make the structure. "I don't know, Kate. That part of the shore is not rocky, but I think I'd have to build two towers on each side of the shore to suspend the bridge from. They'd have to be tall enough to keep it out of the water. I'm no engineer. To be honest, I don't think I could do it."

Kate sighed. She'd known it was a long shot, at best.

"Let me think about it some more, sweetheart," Rick added when he saw her downcast look. "I'll have to look at the shore there again. There are really simple rope bridges one can make where you shuffle along on one rope and hang onto the other, but that wouldn't be of much help."

"No, I was hoping for something that we could just walk across while carrying food or plants from the other shore."

Rick's eyes focused on her hair, haloed by the firelight in the background. There were glints of reds and even near blonde, as it was heavily sun-bleached. He couldn't resist running his hand through the beautiful curls, and within minutes all thought of bridges and other building projects were replaced by much more pleasurable pursuits.

* * *

"All packed up?" Rick asked, as he returned from the area of the beach next to the cliff wall where they stored the bamboo poles that assembled into their shelter.

"Yep, canoe is packed to the gills." Kate replied, straightening up from her crouch next to their dugout. "I was just rearranging the baskets to balance it better."

Rick stared at the laden craft. He was very proud of it; he'd put a lot of work into it, and it had proven to be an invaluable asset in exploring the interior and exterior of the island. However, it simply did not accommodate a lot of cargo. He and Kate could scrunch in their seats, as the trip back to Pereora was quick if the tide was right. However, the thought of adding a baby to the mix within the year—a baby that would inevitably grow—made him even more convinced they needed something bigger: something maneuverable by one person.

After Kate took her place in the seat nearest the bow, Rick shoved them off into the water. He reflected that if his dock project worked on the interior, it might be possible to do something on the exterior as well. Though it would have to be modular, to break it down when they left since they hardly…

"Rick!"

"Huh?"

"I've been talking to you for like two minutes. What are you thinking about?"

Remembering her mirth at his subject, he thought about prevaricating. However, his wife could read him like a book, so he knew she'd extract it from him eventually. "Docks."

Kate laughed again, though not as hysterically as she had the night he'd first confessed to wanting to build one. "You're really obsessed with them, huh?"

"I wouldn't call it obsessed, Kate. I just think they could be pretty handy."

"Well, Rick, you've built an amazing home for us so far, so if you want to try building a dock, then it's fine with me."

"It'll take a lot more of the big bamboo. I think I'll start cutting a ton of it, as it'll need to dry before we can use it."

"Why is that?"

"Green bamboo is full of liquids, like sap, that make it too heavy for great buoyancy. I was thinking about the dock and your request for a bridge. I'm pretty sure there's no way I could engineer a bridge, but what if I were to build a really big bamboo raft? It could hold a lot of cargo, and it would be pretty simple to paddle across the lake."

Kate thought about it for a bit. It would be much easier for him to build. She recognized that a well built, safe bridge would be extremely challenging and might not be anywhere close to being done by the time the baby was due. His idea made much more sense.

"Yeah, Rick, I can see that a raft would be quick to do and probably just as convenient as a bridge. Maybe more so, as you could aim the raft wherever you wanted to on the other shore, while a bridge would be, of course, fixed."

"Ok, I'll start harvesting more bamboo when we get back. While it's drying, I think it's time we went ahead and completely thatched the roof of the pergola."

Kate agreed to start making roofing tiles, as she had for their house, out of palm and Pandanus leaves. As she was entering her second trimester, she was feeling much more energetic and the nausea had completely disappeared.

She hadn't felt the baby move yet, but knew that was likely still some weeks away. There was still a lot of fear when she thought about what might happen—after all there were lots of stories espousing the danger of childbirth for both the baby and the mother, even with access to modern medicine. However, she'd vowed not to dwell on them. She was embracing how well she felt, how comfortable their lives had become through their hard work, and how deeply in love she was with Rick.

It was now just a year ago that Lanie had ambushed her at her parents' house and convinced her to go away for a while. Reflecting on the steps that had all led her here—to this place with _this_ man—it was easy to think that if just one thing had been altered, they would have never have met.

So many pieces had fallen into place just so to deliver them both here. And while Kate would never forget _exactly_ what that slimy Grollet had done to them both, if she hadn't been stranded with Rick, she wasn't sure she would ever have opened her heart to him and found love.

The Kate of one year ago had been bitter, though with the single minded plan to enter the Academy driving her, she'd thought she had a purpose in life. She'd forget all her friends, all her family (what little was left), and bring justice to those who needed it so badly. Random gang violence might result in the deaths of even more innocent people, but _she'd_ never conduct a cursory investigation and then just forget about the victim or their family. She'd be justice and vengeance, wrapped up in one package.

Looking at that Kate now was like looking at a stranger. Grollet had intended for them both to die on that ship; she had no doubts about his actions at the time. And, in a way, she had died on that ship. The old Kate. She'd been forced by circumstances into the company of a man she'd actively avoided. Thank goodness God, or the fates, or whatever was responsible for determining the ludicrous events that resulted in them being thrown together had done so. For she couldn't imagine a life without Richard Rodgers in it. She'd found her happily ever after, and had been tempered into someone much worthier in the process.

* * *

Desultory days slid by until it was mid-August. Rick decided to harvest even more bamboo than he needed for the raft and the dock, as he knew they'd need to build some furniture for the baby, as well as a birthing hut as Kate's time approached. This was a simple structure, that would include rope supports for her to squat for the delivery.

Normally, there were numerous relatives and others with the mother; they had only him. So, he mentally devised some rough plans that would need to be built for her comfort and assistance. He needed Kate to help him finalize the plans, but felt they'd at least be able to make her as comfortable as possible, given their limitations.

He brought the bamboo poles back to the shore nearest Pereora, and piled them according to size on the little plain close to the shore. The ones needed for the dock and raft would be allowed to dry for several weeks. He finished up with all the piles just before dinner. Washing up, he found Kate already in the kitchen with dinner ready. Thankfully, he'd convinced her to add the more interesting ingredients to her food after fixing meals as they had been pre-pregnancy.

After dishing his plate up, he joined her at the table, trying not to look at what she was adding to her fish and beans. Ignorance was definitely bliss.

"How was your day, babe?" she asked as she sprinkled something that smelled suspiciously like dried coconut over the beans.

Concentrating on the conversation was the only way to pretend nothing disgusting was being prepared across the table.

"Great. I have a huge stock of bamboo now. It'll be nice to just go choose which pole I want, and not have to worry about going and harvesting it."

"I think I've got all the roof panels done. It went fairly quickly now that I know exactly how to do them."

"That's great. Thanks so much for working on them. The roof should go pretty quickly once I put up the rafters and purlins."

The existing 'roof' was just horizontal poles between the horizontal supports. He had to build a framework to attach the thatch tiles to, and that meant more purlins. However, this would be a much less elaborate structure, so it wouldn't take too much time. He hoped.

"Rick?"

"Yeah?"

"I was wondering…." She trailed off, obviously lost in thought. Having absolutely no earthly idea what she was thinking about, he waited for a few seconds before prompting her for more.

"Wondering what, exactly?"

"Well, after the baby is born we'll need a crib and stuff…."

"I know, Kate. I harvested a ton of bamboo for that purpose. It shouldn't be hard to build."

"I'm sure it won't be, not after all you've already built. No, I didn't mean the actual structure itself. I was thinking about the linens."

"The linens?" Rick couldn't help the surprise from leaking into his voice. He had no idea what she was talking about.

"Yeah, the linens. Sheets, blankets. Not to mention a mattress for the crib. And clothes for the baby. We don't have much clothing as it is, and absolutely nothing for a baby. There are towels, but that'd be hot to sleep on."

"Linens." He was dumfounded. He'd never thought about linens.

"Rick, keep up! What do we dress our baby in? And….oh, my god, what do we use for diapers? We don't have any diapers!"

"Diapers?" he echoed weakly. Diapers. Linens. Baby things.

"Yes, diapers! What do native islanders use? There's no way they have access to disposable ones, right? You told me not long after we got here that women don't use feminine hygiene products that are disposable. What about diapers?"

Oh, she wasn't going to like this. He knew that without a single iota of doubt. She was _not_. going. to. like. this.

"Do you know? What they do with babies and diapers?"

He was sweating: she was like Muhammad Ali in full attack. No time to think. Escape. Not that there were places he could really disappear to, safely. Nor would he run from his pregnant wife. Jog, maybe. A brisk walk, surely. But run? No way. Not unless she had a weapon. Or was really close.

Kate could see that Rick was nervous. He had to know the answer, but didn't want to share it with her. Which meant that she wouldn't like it. She racked her brain, trying to think of possible solutions. Sea sponges might work, though they'd have to tear them up into pretty small pieces. Plus, they'd still need something to hold it all together. Grasses? Yikes, that'd hurt. They just didn't have enough clothes or other fabrics to justify tearing up something so valuable as a towel and making diapers of it. There must be a solution. Unless….

"Oh, please, Rick, don't tell me they don't use anything!"

Rick closed his eyes and took a deep breath. She'd come to it on her own. Not that she was happy about it, but she'd figured it out. Such an incredibly intelligent person, his wife.

Reopening his eyes, he saw the uncertainty and doubt flicking through her eyes. "You're right. They don't use anything," he replied to her. She visibly deflated, anxiety spent.

"How the hell does that work?"

* * *

**This may come as a surprise to many, but diaperless parenting is practiced by about half the world today. I'll be honest, I'd never heard of it before beginning to write this story. But, in my research to figure out what to do with the baby, I found out you do…nothing. There are now people using 'elimination communication' to go diaper free in the U.S. and other industrialized nations. The New York Times even wrote about it in August of 2013. Some of you may know of it, or even have practiced it. But, this story is about Rick and Kate—and Kate, as a young American, is very unlikely to have ever imagined that a baby wouldn't wear a diaper. It's what most of us in the States are brought up in, and think of as normal.**


	50. Chapter 50: Beating Around the Bush

**This chapter is dedicated to Tamerlorde85. Love the reviews that you send me. You all know how much I appreciate them, even if there are times (like the past 3 or 4 weeks) when my life gets in the way and I just can't answer them. I wish I had more time, but I've not won the lottery or received a giant inheritance from a long lost relative. Until then, I just promise to do what I can. Thank you for all of your kind and generous words, Tamerlorde85. I love reading your thoughts on a chapter.**

**Can y'all believe we're on chapter 50? Wow.**

* * *

August, 2000

"They leave them naked? Seriously? That does not seem very hygienic."

"I know how it sounds to us, Kate. We grew up in a place where there were plentiful cloth diapers when we were babies, and relatively easy ways to wash them. And now, nearly everyone uses disposable diapers. But on the islands, how would you dispose of the disposables? Or even be supplied often enough to buy them? It's not an easy thing."

"But infants don't have bladder or bowel control, Rick. That seems highly gross to me."

"Well, I was told that the parents learn their routine very quickly in terms of when they're going to let loose. They put them over a little potty and draw their legs up to cue them to go; they learn pretty fast. I don't think they're surprised very often."

Kate gave a grimace. "I imagine most of these parents have relatives to teach them how to do this, or other children that they've been successful with. Are you going to tell me you're a baby whisperer now, too?"

"Uh…no. I didn't spend much time with any of the infants. I just noticed that all the kids were pretty much naked all the time."

"Well, I don't know what to do with a baby any more than you do. But, I am absolutely not going to have time to watch it constantly to see if it needs to pee or poop. You need to come up with a better solution."

"Me? Why me?"

"You're the island expert. And you're the one that knocked me up in the first place. Ooooh, sea sponges, Kate. They're almost as good as the pill, Kate. Don't worry, Kate. It'll be fine, Kate. Well, it's not fine and now we're having a baby and we don't have any diapers!"

The last of her words were punctuated by sobs, so Rick did the only thing he could do in the situation: gathered her in his arms and just held her.

"Shhh, Kate, its ok. We'll figure it out. We've overcome everything thrown at us so far; this will just be another project to accomplish."

"It's not just the diapers, Rick. What if something happens?" she cried, finding comfort as always wrapped in his arms.

"I know, Kate, I know. We're both scared. But you're young, and healthy. I just know you're both going to be fine. I can't let anything happen to you."

She didn't respond, just kept crying as he rocked her. He couldn't guarantee anything, and they both knew it. He could only pray and call on his meager knowledge gathered from his time with Hina. God willing, it would be enough.

* * *

Kate's breakdown over diapers and clothing for their baby made Rick face the reality of their small stock of apparel and other various linens. They'd used up all but two of the sheets when they made their mattress for the hanging bed. They had six bath towels and eight smaller towels. They each had enough underwear for a week (though they were quite ratty at this point), several pairs of shorts, lots of t-shirts, Kate's sundress, and a few long sleeved shirts. There were a few pairs of jeans as well.

They'd grabbed clothes left behind by the other crewmen as well, though it consisted mainly of t-shirts and shorts as well. Socks and shoes were available, but neither of them were in the habit of wearing them anymore. The only exception to this was when they were out on the beach by the ocean. There were too many sharp corals to risk wading around unprotected out there. The interior of the island didn't have the same fauna, so they simply went barefoot.

He had no idea how long they would be on this island. Nothing he'd seen so far in their nine months here had led him to believe that rescue would be imminent. They'd built all these things to make their lives more comfortable while they waited for someone to find them. To survive, they had to have food, shelter, water, and fire. Fortune had smiled on them, as the island provided so many natural resources that, while not easy, survival had been possible.

Yet, he'd never thought about the fact that this might be all they could expect for a long time. That pure survival was no longer enough. He had Kate; they were making a life together. And he loved being alone with her, no doubt. To a certain point. Their lives together would necessarily lack a lot that he'd taken for granted before the shipwreck. The companionship of friends and family. Access to medical care. Books—he missed them so much. The ability to just purchase food already prepared. And, clothes.

Clothing for the baby could be cobbled together from some of the t-shirts they'd grabbed from the crew's quarters. However, the baby would grow. No matter how they scrimped and saved scraps of cloth, they'd eventually run out. He needed to start thinking long term, not just months ahead but years. It was a daunting, depressing task.

Thus, he decided his next project wouldn't be roofing the pergola. It could wait for a while; they were still in the dry season and so there was no rush. No, his wife was upset about linens and diapers. Fortunately, he had an idea of what to do.

* * *

Kate wasn't sure exactly how many roofing tiles Rick would need for the pergola roof, so she'd made a lot. It was pretty simple to do now that she knew the best way to wrap the leaves and fasten them with a palm midrib. Simple, but not easy. It was labor intensive.

She'd expected Rick would start in on the project quickly; she knew he was looking forward to having this item crossed off his list, and they'd both appreciate having a dry area to cook and eat. The sides would still all be open, so she decided perhaps her next project would be to weave some screens that could hang down from the horizontal support poles, much like in the house. Most of the time, they'd not need them. They could just leave them rolled up, out of the way. However, there would be times when it would be very nice to have them available.

As she looked around the pergola, picturing in her head where she'd like to hang the screens, she realized something was missing—something quite important. Namely, Rick. She'd worked hard to get the roof tiles done and he wasn't even working on the roof? It was annoying…and puzzling.

She walked down to the area he'd made into his bamboo storage, by the lake. He wasn't there. That's when she noticed the canoe was missing. A flash of further annoyance surged through her. He'd not bothered telling her he was going to the other side of the island. What if something happened and she couldn't find him? He was an incredible husband, most of the time. But, there were definitely days when he knew how to push her buttons.

Well, there was no way to confront him now. She walked back to the pergola and grabbed one of the knives she used to harvest Pandanus leaves. There was no time to lie around being mad at him; she had work to do. Fortunately for Rick, the Pandanus trees would bear the brunt of her anger—at least for now.

* * *

A couple of hours passed, judging by the position of the sun. Kate was already back in the shade of the pergola, stripping leaves, when she finally heard Rick whistling a jaunty tune as he strolled up from the direction of the lake.

"Hey, Kate. Whatcha' working on?"

She elected to meet his greeting with stony silence. They both knew better than to let fights escalate without speaking, but she wanted to make a point before they got into it. A childish point, granted, but still.

"Ok, what'd I do wrong?" She heard the uncertainty, and it was enough for her to break her silence and explain his shortcomings to him. Well, perhaps it was more of a lash than a quiet explanation, but he'd made her worried! Plus, she was pregnant. Pregnant women were well established as having labile emotions.

"Gee, Rick, I have no idea. Maybe the fact that you left in the canoe without telling me and were gone for hours. Hours, Rick. I was worried sick. And wipe that smirk off your face, I really was worried about you."

His face immediately sobered, though internally he still acknowledged her inadvertent rhyming with a chuckle. _Inside_ his head. Laughing visibly would have been like adding dried coconut husk to a spark. Instant combustion. And Rick was flammable.

"I'm so sorry. I should have told you what I was doing. But, Kate, can I point out that even if you knew where I was, something could have happened to either of us and the other wouldn't know."

"I wish we had phones. Or walkie-talkies."

"Me too, me too," he mused. "Of course if we did, odds are we wouldn't still be on this island. Still, it would be nice to be able to communicate with each other somehow, especially distress signals."

"So, what were you doing, Rick? I thought you were anxious to start the roof of the pergola, which is why I made all these roofing tiles for you." She pointed at the large stack next to the dining table. They'd been mocking her since she'd figured out he wasn't doing what she thought he would be.

"You're right, I did say that. And it will be the next priority. I was thinking about what you said about diapers earlier."

Kate looked up at him. She had a feeling he was about to do something totally romantic. He'd already admitted he'd been dwelling on what had made her so upset. That alone was endearing. But she suspected he had a solution of some sort, which would quench any annoyance she'd been feeling instantly.

"I know you're not keen on the idea of just going bare. And you're right about clothing: we're going to run out at some point. So, I got to thinking about what the islanders used for making cloth. I'm not sure you'll think it's a viable solution, but I thought we could try it out, too."

"And just what does that involve?"

"They made something called ahu, or tapa cloth, from the bark of certain trees and shrubs. I spent the afternoon harvesting the right sized shoots of different trees and found a piece of candlenut tree to make a beater from. We'll need an anvil, too, but that is pretty simple to do."

Kate looked skeptical. "Is it durable?"

"Yeah, it really is. The drawback is that it's very labor intensive; it's only worn by kings and chiefs on very special occasions. But it's one way the islanders made cloth for many generations."

"What's involved?"

"Well, hours and hours and hours of time. You essentially beat the inner bark from the young shoot of a particular tree, like the paper mulberry, with the beater. This softens the bark and causes it to expand. I just thought I could show you what to do, though I'm not sure it's a practical answer to our issues. It takes a long time to produce anything of size, which is why it is reserved for certain special events."

"Rick, it doesn't sound like this will work. Not if it takes as long to produce as you say."

"No, you're right. Which is why I kept thinking about other ways to solve the issue. Initially, the baby will be in a sling most of the time. We don't need clothes for that."

"True, I guess." Kate wasn't certain. She didn't really know what one needed for a baby, but in her limited experience clothes were always involved.

"The other things we could try would be weaving with some softer fibers, such as from some of the grasses. Or, we could soften up the inner bark like you have to do to make tapa, but instead of beating it you could cut it into strips and weave with it. That would be pretty soft."

Kate was both impressed and grateful that he'd listened to her concerns. "Thank you, Rick. I don't know how this will turn out, but I'm really happy you didn't just ignore me or chalk up my complaining to a cranky, hormonal woman."

"I don't think you're cranky!" Seeing her eyebrow rise, he amended his declaration, "I don't think you're cranky, most of the time. No, seriously, your comments about the linens got me to thinking, and I knew we just didn't have enough, not with a baby on the way. So, you were the inspiration for this project. Just like you are the inspiration for everything I do."

Kate graced him with a giant smile, and Rick felt as though the sun had suddenly broken through an overcast, gray day. He couldn't help but to smile back at her, though he was certain his smile paled in comparison to hers.

He spent the rest of the day honing the beater into a tool that he recognized from his time in the islands. It was a rectangular faced club. One side had grooves carved into them; the remainder were smooth.

The bark to make the cloth needed to be peeled and soaked at least overnight, so he showed Kate how to use a knife to start the process by scoring into the outer bark, then peeling it off in a long sheet. After the soft, white inner bark was stripped from the rest of the shoot, it was rolled into a coil and soaked in water. Each piece was about four inches wide, but all were over five feet long.

Finally, Rick sought an anvil to use. Anvils were generally other trees, with a smooth trunk that was used to beat the bark cloth into a thin, broader sheet. The beating along the length of the piece served to cause the fibers to relax a bit, so widening each strip to around 10-12 inches.

He found a fallen candlenut tree not far from Pereora. It had suffered some damage at some point, with the middle already partially rotted. It didn't take much work with his trusty ax to chop out a portion that would serve nicely as an anvil for them. After dragging it back to their camp, he took a few pieces of bamboo and fashioned them into legs. They would be enough to support the anvil, as the force used to beat the bark was not very high. Kate helped him place the anvil at the end of the pergola; still in the shade and out of weather (well, it would be once he roofed the thing), but out of the way of the kitchen activities and their dining table.

"So, Kate, now that this is all set up, let me explain how this all works. You take a soaked piece of inner bark and drape it over the anvil. This beater is used to strike the bark. You start with the grooved side, and switch to the smooth sides once you're close to the end."

Kate still looked doubtful about the whole process. "Just how much will the bark expand? It's awfully narrow."

"Up to about a foot in total."

"That doesn't seem like enough width. And how strong can it be if you beat it so thin?"

"So, you actually join pieces together to make them wider. You can join seams by beating them together. And you can make the cloth as thin and fine as you want, but the thinner you make it the longer it will take to finish. As you can imagine, it takes a long time to make a piece of size. Once they had it the size they wanted it, it was decorated with elaborate designs with dyes from various nuts and roots. We don't need anything like that, just something functional. But the time required and the labor needed to make it is probably not worth it in the end."

"I guess I'll have to reserve judgment until I try it."

"It won't feel like cotton, but I'm told that it can be as soft as silk. The Hawaiians would beat the bark, then put it back in water with some leaves and ferment it for around a week and a half, then beat it again. I'm told the quality was exceptional. We could experiment with it, see what you think is reasonable."

"Ok. I'm kind of excited to see how it all will come together. What's next? I know we have to wait until tomorrow for the bark to soak."

"I was going to gather some arrowroot to make more powder. I know you used some for my arm injury. It's a useful binder, not just for humans. The beating process will cause some holes to develop, plus there are holes where the branches of the shoots took off. To seal them up, the arrowroot powder is sprinkled on them and it acts like glue."

"What should I do?"

"Well, I think we need something more practical than tapa. I think we could weave a lot of the items that we need, especially anything that doesn't need to be soft or delicate. Something like mats woven from Pandanus leaves and the like would come in handy."

Kate then told him about her idea for the screens for the pergola.

"That's a great idea, Kate. Why don't you work on that, while I go gather some arrowroot. I'm taking two baskets, as I want to press more candlenuts. I want to have a lot of oil stored up."

Kate didn't ask why; she was too busy thinking about how nice it would be to have the ability to make some sort of cloth. She'd been worried about their lack of access to fabric for a while, especially with a baby on the way. So much so, that she'd been considering trying to knit. Her paternal grandmother had taught her long ago; she wasn't sure she could remember how, but was willing to experiment.

The main problem was what to use for the yarn. The sennit they produced for rope was very coarse. She couldn't imagine it would make a very pleasant knit fabric. Perhaps as mats or screens it would be fine, but weaving was faster and easier. Plus, the sennit was far more valuable as rope.

She decided to pursue some experiments in using different plant leaves or grasses to twist into a type of yarn. Nearly anything would be softer than the sennit with coconut husks in it; it just wouldn't be as strong.

Rick's idea for the inner bark that he'd already harvested intrigued her. If they soaked the bark to make it soft, she would be able to beat it into softer fibers, then separate them. She could make yarn from this, and the knit cloth would hopefully do nicely for clothing.

Excited about the prospects, she resolved to try several different approaches, in terms of material for yarn. As for knitting needles, there was plenty of bamboo. Some careful paring with a knife should result in needles of varying sizes.

Thus, while Rick was out gathering candlenuts and arrowroot, Kate did her own scavenging trip. She gathered several different long leaves from various plants, as well as some of the common grasses from the plains. She also retrieved some bamboo to work with on needles, and set the leaves and grasses to soaking on her return.

She explained her plans to Rick when he got back, then worked on making some knitting needles while he began pressing the candlenuts. She had nearly finished one pair by the time it was necessary to start dinner.

Later that night, lying in bed next to her husband, with the cooling movement of the fan washing over her, she tried again to imagine what it would be like to raise a baby on the island. Together, she and Rick had overcome so many challenges. They'd adapted elements of the island to their needs, but they'd also adapted themselves to living without so many things that were taken for granted in the modern world.

She wasn't so spoiled to think that it would be impossible to have a child under their limited conditions: obviously, over centuries of time children had been born and raised with much less than she and Rick had at their disposal. Even today, there were places in the world that had far less than the bounty they had found on Fenua Pari.

The key would be for her to adapt her thinking about what was needed and required for a baby to fit what they had available. For example, the issue with the diapers was one area she'd have to think over longer. Clearly, the islands were far enough away from easy access to stores that diapers, even today, were at best a luxury. Some of the atolls probably didn't have enough fresh water to waste washing cloth diapers, and disposables were clearly problematic in that actually _disposing_ of them was a real issue.

However, in her Western mind, there had to be some sort of covering for the baby. What she hadn't immediately thought about was how uncomfortable an impermeable diaper might be to a baby. In the heat and humidity of the tropics, a covering that captured and contained waste next to the skin might lead to more problems than not.

Nothing could be solved tonight. In fact, many of the challenges they'd face probably couldn't be addressed until after the arrival of the baby. Vowing to try to remember to have an open mind about it all, she reached over to touch her husband and gave his nearest shoulder a kiss as he slept. She drifted off content in the knowledge that they would be facing all of these issues together. Nothing had bettered them yet, and she was confident that the two of them would overcome whatever life threw at them. What is a diaper issue compared to a shipwreck and a murderous shipmate, after all?

* * *

The next morning found her eager to start on her day. There were still so many projects to do, but learning to make a type of cloth was very exciting to her. She could think of lots of designs to use it on if it worked even half as well as her husband thought it would.

"Ready for breakfast?" Rick asked.

"Yes, definitely ready."

"No more morning sickness then?"

"No, I've been feeling very well for several days, even after I get up. I have a lot more energy, too."

"That's great, Kate. I'm glad you're feeling better." He handed her a plate with two fried eggs and a variety of raw, diced fruit.

"Thanks, babe."

They started to eat, Kate—typically—starving in the morning.

"So you're going to start the roof today?"

"Yeah, I want to get it done as soon as possible."

"Are you going to show me how to do the tapa cloth first?"

"Yep, though I thought you might want to make a better chair to sit in while you pound the cloth. Whatever method you end up using, you're going to be sitting for a long time. You need to be comfortable. This will be a great job to do as your pregnancy advances. You're out of the sun and heat, and you'll be doing something very valuable."

Kate agreed a better chair would be nice: one with a back to lean on. She wasn't necessarily happy at his implication that she should just sit around all day, but she knew that eventually she would be much less lithe than she was now. As the baby grew within her, she supposed there might come a time when all she could do was sit around and knit or make yarn.

"I'm going to start constructing the frame this morning, but it gets too hot in the mid-afternoon. If you want to cut the bamboo you need for a chair, I can help you finish it then. After that, I can show you how to use the beater."

"That's fine. Did you leave the saws down by the bamboo storage?"

"Yeah, they're hanging from some hooks I pounded into that big tree that shades the largest pile of bamboo. Those are the small to medium diameter poles, which is the kind I think you'd be best to use for the chair."

"Ok. I'll see you later then?"

"Yeah, I've already dragged up the pieces I'm going to use as the frame. But before you go, I wanted to give you this."

He held out a cord with a piece of bamboo hanging from it.

"What is it?"

"I carved whistles for us." He gently hung it around her neck. "Go ahead, try it."

She pursed her lips and placed the whistle on them. Giving it a soft blow, she was startled by how loud the resultant sound that issued forth.

"Blow harder," Rick encouraged. She took a deep breath and was better prepared for the piercing noise that seemed to reverberate from the end.

"Wow, that's loud."

Rick bounced on his toes in his excitement. "I know, right? I made one for each of us," he exclaimed as he reached down to the table and picked up his own whistle and settling it around his neck. "I should have made something like this after my accident with the bamboo, but in the excitement of finding out about the baby I forgot."

"Are these signals of some sort?"

"Yep! But they can be used for more than just emergencies. We'll need to work out a pattern of sorts, but we can communicate with these. Obviously, they won't be perfect, as they'll only be heard for a certain distance, and definitely not next to the waterfall. But, they're better than nothing."

"I think they're great, Rick! Thank you," she smiled, then bestowed a loving kiss on his lips. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Well, for one, I hope you wouldn't be sharing your kisses with anyone else."

"You mean I should stop kissing the chickens and lizards? Cause they're kind of the only other animals large enough around here to kiss."

Rick just laughed. "You can kiss the chickens if you like, but I draw the line at the lizards."

"Not a problem. How about if I give a single blow on the whistle when I get down to the lake? And you answer me with one too? We can check out the range of these things."

Rick nodded, and she picked up the woven hat she'd made months ago to keep the sun off her head. She was still marveling over how incredible her husband was when she reached the lakeshore and gave a loud blow on the whistle he'd made.

The answering whistle was easy to hear. She grinned widely. She loved him so much. There was no way to know what the future had in store for them, but it really felt like they could meet every challenge head on, together.

* * *

**So, tapa cloth. Very, very labor intensive, but the process of weaving yarn never made it to the South Pacific. With Westernized conveniences, like cloth and premade clothes, tapa has become nearly a lost art form. The beaters had individualized grooves carved into them, so a piece of tapa could be identified by the markings on it from a beater. Dyes from various roots and nuts were utilized to make very elaborate and gorgeous patterns. It was a woman's job, though I believe the men helped keep the plants selected to harvest free from limb buds and such. **

**I get lots of comments about the research I've done for this fic. It's true, I've put a lot of time into trying to get details right—I hope it gives it a tone of authenticity. However, I can't get everything right, and sometimes the research just frustrates me. For example, for Kate's weird food cravings, I wanted to use vanilla as an ingredient. Tahitian vanilla is world famous, after all. **

**Imagine my shock and dismay when I discovered that the vanilla plant must be hand fertilized. No plant could have reproduced by itself, alone on that island for many years. It would have died long ago. So much for vanilla. Then, I decided mangos sounded sweet, and might be gross to add to a stew. Regrettably, I found that mangos take 3-5 years to fruit, even from saplings. Sigh. Thus, papaya became the answer. Unfortunately, it is really not that odd a combination. One of my readers actually made a form of the stew that Kate made for her family, inspired by the ingredients. It got a thumbs up. My consolation is decreeing that Rick doesn't really like papayas, hence his rejection of the food. Stupid vanilla plant. **


	51. Chapter 51: You, Me, and Bruce Lee

**This chapter is dedicated to liz. onia. In her review of chapter 50, she mentioned that I've inspired her to start writing again. I'm thrilled that a little of what I'm doing has inspired others to take up pen and paper (or keyboard) for the first time or to resume an interrupted piece. I can't claim my time management skills are anything special—see the note at the end about what **_**used**_** to be my hobby—until I started this story. But, in the end, I hope people do something that they feel passionate about. And this story has had me in its grip for months.**

* * *

August, 2000

Rick joined Kate down by the bamboo around noon, bringing a picnic lunch for them to share. The framework for the roof over the pergola was still incomplete, and he didn't want her under it until it was all safely tied down.

"How's it going with the chair?" he asked, after a few kisses.

"Good. I've got all the pieces cut, and I've started putting it together."

He admired her work for a minute, then moved them to a flat, shady spot large enough for them to sit and eat together. Since they'd talked so much that morning about clothing and resources from the island that they had available, he decided to play a game that they'd started not long after he and Kate had become a true couple. It didn't have a real name, but as soon as he stated the first fact, she knew what he was doing.

"Hot steamy shower." He sat back and watched her contemplate her response. He knew what she would say, and she knew he knew, but she liked to make him think she might change her mind.

"Haircut, mani and pedi."

"I still say that's cheating," he immediately responded, as they both knew he would.

"It all takes place in a salon, Rick. It's one thing. Get over it. You'd get a shave and a haircut in the barber shop, after all. It's just one place, so it all counts."

"But that's all _hair_," he protested. "Yours is hair_ and_ nails. It's not the same thing."

"It _is_ the same. One building means one thing. Stop whining."

"Fine," he huffed, though not really upset. Which she knew he wasn't.

"Ok, new clothes, though I don't want to spend a lot of time shopping."

"What kind of clothes?"

This was the point where they often varied their game of '_what would you do first_', meaning how they might envision spending their time immediately after rescue. He varied his clothing choice, which led to her choosing different ways to proceed. With lunch spread out, he decided to be formal.

"A nice charcoal suit, with a crisp white dress shirt and a sapphire blue tie for me. You would be in a sapphire blue dress with your freshly styled hair up in a fancy bun that I couldn't wait to take down when the evening was done."

She quirked an eyebrow at him. He'd never mentioned formal wear before, but the image it brought to mind of him in a suit was nothing short of tantalizing.

"Hmm, with those kind of clothes, we'd need to be headed to a very nice restaurant. I'm thinking Asian or French. A five course meal with a shared dessert and great wine."

"I'd taste none of it, as I'd be staring at you, wanting nothing more than to get you back home and taste your skin. Your bare neck would drive me to distraction all night."

She smiled at him. "The waiter would be annoyed with us as he couldn't get our attention, we'd be so wrapped up in each other."

"After taking care of the bill, we'd head back to our home, where I'd peel you slowly out of your dress and let your hair down. Then, I'd lay you in the middle of our giant bed with 1,000 count Egyptian cotton sheets and…."

Caught up in the magical world he was spinning, Kate couldn't believe it when he stopped at such a critical time. "And what, Rick? What's next?"

"You know what's next, Kate. We'd stretch out on those soft, cool sheets and luxuriate in the fact that all we had to do to have light was to flip a switch. What else would there be to do?"

She backhanded his shoulder softly and snorted. "I'll show you what else we might do," climbing into his lap and occupying his mind for a good half hour about things other than electricity and Egyptian cotton.

Never once in all their years playing this game together did they ever imagine he would be dressed by a prison system and that she wouldn't be with him. Reality often falls far short of dreams, even for a millionaire.

* * *

By late afternoon, the roof frame was completed and Kate's chair was installed next to the anvil. Rick spent about half an hour demonstrating to her how to use the mallet on the bark for the tapa.

"It almost sounds like a drum," she commented.

"You know, the Hawaiians in particular chose trees to use as anvils that had a nice tone when struck. They'd have several women sitting together working on cloth, and used a rhythm that was essentially drumming."

"This will be more interesting than I first thought. I miss music so much, it will be kind of fun to make noise with a pattern again."

"One of these days when we're all caught up on necessary projects, I want to try my hand at making some sort of flute or the like."

"That could be good…or bad, depending on if you can actually play it."

Rick just grinned at her. "You may regret wishing for musical instruments."

"Well, you've not disappointed me with anything you've tried your hand at yet, so I doubt it."

"Perhaps we should both reserve judgment until I've got something done."

"Ah, but you already have an instrument that you play masterfully, Mr. Rodgers."

"And what instrument would that be, Mrs. Rodgers?"

She gave him her giant grin that always served to turn his knees to jelly, then reached out a hand to invite him to follow her.

Dinner that night was quite late, as she led him back to their house to demonstrate to him how he could hit all the perfect notes.

* * *

Late August, 2000

Kate sat in front of the anvil, pounding away to a beat she could hear in her head. And yes, it was _Beat It_ by Michael Jackson. Rick had caught her singing it two days ago and was still teasing her about it. She couldn't help that her time with the tapa mallet brought that song to the front of her mind. With Rick as the sole potential witness, she felt safe in belting it out. He was off by the lake, or was supposed to be, putting together his dock.

"Just beat it, beat it, beat it, beat it," she sang, punctuating each beat with a mallet strike. "No one wants to be defeated. Showin' how funky strong is your fight. It doesn't matter who's wrong or right."

The tapa was, in a word, slow. Very slow. She'd not appreciated just how long it would take to do anything when Rick told her it was labor intensive. Each piece required hours and hours of work. No wonder it was an art that had nearly died out. She couldn't handle sitting and laboring over it for more than sixty minutes at a time. For one thing, her arm that she was using to strike it with would become sore; the first few days after she'd first begun, she'd thought she'd permanently injured something.

So, she'd developed a routine of sorts. She'd work on the tapa after breakfast, then go weed the garden and orchard, harvesting anything ripe. She'd come back and fix lunch, then resume tapa duty until Rick appeared to eat. She'd then spend the afternoon working on her knitting project, which was much more promising, in her mind. She'd found that it was possible to use bark strips beaten apart as yarn. It resulted in a much more pliable, softer yarn than she'd expected. Much of her time at the anvil was now to process the bark into these fibers, rather than working on true tapa cloth.

As late afternoon cooled down a bit, she'd go foraging on some days; others she'd seek her husband and help him until they both mutually peeled off their few clothes and went swimming until it was time for dinner. After dinner she'd work on more sennit or weaving mats.

It was a lot of sitting around, at times, but she made sure she was still getting plenty of exercise. Her baby was now an obvious part of her contour, and she found herself talking to him or her a lot these days. She was still scared of what was going to happen, but she'd decided there was nothing they could do about it at this point. She would do everything she could to ensure she was healthy and ready; it was the most they could do to prepare.

Continuing to wield her mallet, she considered the tapa cloth in front of her. She could see why the Polynesians had valued the cloth so highly. It was possible to make it quite soft, but the time to make that happen, as well as then join it to other pieces, was a huge investment. It simply wasn't going to work for her and Rick.

She thought about switching to her knitting, but decided to keep working on the bark until Rick appeared. She found it very relaxing to knit. It had taken her a while to remember how to cast on, but once she experimented for a few hours she'd been able to recall instructions on doing a long tail cast on.

Since knitting consisted of basically two stitches, the knit and the purl, she found that they were easy to recall. Her first effort was a somewhat uneven knit square. Because all the stitches were knit, it had a ribbed appearance. That's when she remembered being taught to alternate rows of knit stich with purl, so that the final result would be smooth faced.

The dissatisfaction with her first attempt to do something smooth sided was that the square tended to curl at the edges. Then she remembered that the edging had to have some ribbing in it to prevent this curling.

With that memory, she set out to make a real baby blanket—and it turned out much better than she'd ever imagined. Now, she was experimenting with variations on the stitches. She very vaguely recalled terms like slip one and yarn over. If she could get them down, she thought she might even be brave enough to try cable stitching.

It was a real relief to know that she could take some of their natural resources and turn them into fabric, of sorts, for their use. She loved the peace and relaxation that knitting brought her. However, it was fun to beat on the wood and make all kinds of noise. The anvil was her instrument, and her happiness with life in general spilled over into song.

Having come to the end of her song, she enthusiastically launched into it all over again, even making the opening instrumental noises as best she could. She was about to launch into the lyrics once more when she suddenly felt a strange sensation in her lower abdomen. She froze, song forgotten and arm poised in the air about to swing down and hit the cloth. The forgotten mallet dropped to the ground from her nerveless hand as she abruptly clutched her midsection, unaware of all external cues as she focused her entire being on her child.

* * *

Rick had snuck up the well-worn path from the lake to the kitchen. He was hoping to catch his wife being silly, as she often was while working at the anvil. He wasn't disappointed, as he heard her before he could see her. She had a fine singing voice, though she often chided him when he told her that. He loved to listen to her, but she felt shy about it. When she'd started singing as she worked he'd been pleasantly surprised. Since then, he made a point to try and catch her singing at least a few times a week.

He grinned to himself, recognizing that she was singing her new favorite song. It was understandable why it had stuck in her head: it was a catchy tune, and it fit well with her work.

She was so busy singing and swinging the mallet, she hadn't seen him or heard his approach. He took up a position near the tree line, trying to remain unobserved for as long as possible. It had become another game to them; she claimed she could feel him looking at her, or at least sensed his presence somehow. He had to admit she zeroed in on him with a rapidity he found remarkable, even when he tried to trick her and come from an unexpected direction. There was a link between them that he'd never come close to having with anyone else.

His smile turned to a concerned frown when she suddenly froze in mid-swing, abruptly silenced and frozen in appearance. When she clutched at her abdomen, his concern turned to dread.

"Kate, Kate, what is it?" he cried, rushing toward her. She gave no sign of having heard him, and with her head tipped down and hair curtained over her face, he couldn't see that she was actually smiling softly, not upset as he supposed.

"Kate, Kate! What's going on?" he pleaded, having reached her side. He knelt next to her chair, hand curling on her shoulder to shake her softly, trying to reach her.

"Is it the baby? Is something wrong with the baby?" Tears were threatening to spill down his cheeks. Slowly her head rose, so that he could finally see her face. There was a look of wonder, not terror as he'd expected to see in her eyes.

"What is it?"

"It's the baby, Rick."

"What about the baby?"

"I can feel it moving. It's such an incredible feeling, I wish I could share it with you."

Unable to hold in the sob that had been building, he reached out to cover his child with one hand while clutching her to him with the other. "I thought something was wrong. I was so scared."

"No, no, we're both fine," she soothed. "I just didn't know what was happening. I'd felt something for a few days, off and on, but I thought it was just gas. Then, it just hit me at the right moment and I knew. It's our baby."

They hung on to each other for a few more minutes, communing with just touches about how they felt. It was a day that neither would ever forget: Rick for the stab of terror followed by the elation of the moment, Kate for the wonder and love that suffused her once she realized what the strange sensation she'd noticed was, in fact, her baby.

* * *

September, 2000

Kate would never have guessed from those nausea prone days of her early pregnancy just how good she would feel in her second trimester. Having passed the halfway point about a week ago, she was now feeling routine solid kicks from her baby. It still occasionally startled her, especially if she'd gotten distracted with a task. The closeness she felt to this little being inside of her was incredible.

Rick had finished the dock and then the raft. The dock was fairly sturdy, though they had to be careful with how they walked out on it. She wasn't sure she'd call it a success, in her mind at least, but Rick was very proud of it. The best part was that they didn't have to beach the canoe or raft; they just moored them to the dock, which was easier.

The raft, on the other hand, was a great success. It made foraging for food on the far shore much simpler. The raft had an outrigger on one side, and was about fifteen feet in total length, and five feet wide. It was extremely stable, and Kate found she could easily paddle to the far shore without any assistance.

The expansion of their foraging territory had brought a couple of new foods into their diet, and provided a better source of certain plants. They were both thrilled with the ease that the raft provided.

Rick was now building what he called a birthing shelter. It was next to the kitchen, and had led to a heated argument between them. She thought it was a waste of labor; he insisted it was needed.

In the end, she'd capitulated. She could see he was not going to back down. He didn't want her to give birth in the house because it wasn't close enough to the kitchen and thus a source of hot water. He also told her that she'd probably want to use different positions than just lying down on her back. Having no idea what she might and might not want had weakened her argument that she'd be more comfortable in their house. When he tried to describe how messy it all was, she found herself wavering.

Sensing her resolve to be crumbling, Rick had served up a winning assertion: he'd build her a bathtub in the birthing shelter. It would have to be located next to the kitchen, in order to fill it with hot water. The idea of a hot bath was not something she could withstand, so she gave him free rein to do as he wished.

Fortunately, he'd already taken the time to extend the water line from the shower area to the kitchen. They now had water on demand, though it took a bit of time to fill up a large pail. Still, it was a labor saver that she was thankful for every day.

As Rick got started with the plans for the birthing hut, Kate continued her regular routine of making yarn, working on the tapa and knitting. They'd been on the island for over ten months now. The harsh sunlight and rough washboard was slowly destroying the t-shirts they'd both been used to wearing. Their few pairs of shorts weren't far behind. Underwear was a mere memory at this point.

However, she had knit with large, loose stitches a tunic that was comfortable and durable. She had also finished several blankets for the baby. She was now planning to make another tunic and a few pairs of shorts for Rick.

She'd been thinking about the strength of material like sennit, and was devising a way to knit or weave it into flip flops or sandals. Finally, she was also making a long, rectangle knit piece for a baby sling.

The diaper issue, which had started the whole argument about linens in the first place, was still unresolved. To some degree, she would have to wait until the baby was here to see what worked and what didn't work. She could make squares of material through knitting. Yet, she was loath to use a commodity that required such a large amount of labor as a mere diaper. It just seemed too mundane. She'd agreed with Rick to keep an open mind about the issue.

* * *

Rick couldn't believe how fast the weeks were flying by. Here it was just past mid-September, and Kate was already more than halfway through her pregnancy. He felt like he'd never finish with all he needed to do.

After convincing her they really needed a place separate from the house for her to give birth, he'd set out planning the hut. It would be essentially an extension of the kitchen pergola. Roofed, of course, but open otherwise. Kate would weave some more roll-up shades for the sides. He'd locate the tub on the side next to the kitchen, so adding hot water would be a snap. After the baby was born, they'd use the hut for bathing their child and for storage. Nothing would go to waste.

Yet, the addition was not the only task he needed to finish before the baby was born. He was planning on building a crib for the house, as well as a cradle for them to place the baby in when they were busy in the kitchen.

He had been diving for pearls whenever they were out at the seashore; he didn't think Kate had noticed. Their island was not one of the Tuamotu atolls in French Polynesia that produced the magnificent Tahitian black pearl. However, he'd still found some beautiful specimens during his excursions. He'd kept them secret, somehow, and now had a necklace that he'd made with some cordage of coconut. The plan was to present them to her on her birthday, which was coming in November.

He found his wife in the house, rocking slowly back and forth in a swinging chair he'd hung for her just a few weeks ago. She was knitting, which seemed to relax her.

"Whatcha making now?"

She explained her idea about flip flops. "Think it'll work?"

"They probably won't last as long as rubber soles, but anything that will give us some protection from the corals will be helpful."

Kate smiled at him, grinning not only due to his reply but to the reaction the baby had to his voice.

"C'mere, Rick," she motioned for him to come closer. He still hadn't felt the baby kick, but today the jolts were so strong—she was sure he'd be able to feel something.

He approached with a curious look on his face. She put her knitting down and stood up. It wasn't a struggle to get up—yet—and she was thankful for a chair in which she could swing back to get her legs under her. It would be a very handy feature as the baby grew inside of her.

She grasped Rick's hands and placed them on her belly; she was still small enough that both of his large hands spanned most of the baby. They waited expectantly for almost a minute, before his eyebrow quirked up. She shook her head.

"Say something. When I stood up everything quieted down, but whenever he hears your voice, he goes crazy."

Rick's other eyebrow climbed when he heard her choice of pronouns.

"He?"

"Well, I can't very well call the baby 'it.' It's just a figure of speech, until we know for sure."

"Ok, Kate." He leaned down and kissed to top of the swelling that made it obvious she was pregnant. "Hey there, it's your father. I hear you've been…oh, wow!"

He looked up at her, his face a study in wonder. "I felt that!" then jumped a little as a flurry of activity was provoked by his voice. "Kate, I don't think we're having a baby! He's a ninja."

Kate rolled her eyes, though she was thrilled she could finally share this special moment with him. Rick had spent the last two weeks every night before they fell asleep trying to feel something…anything…without success. She'd tried reassuring him that she could still feel their very active child, and it was just a matter of time before he would, but she'd known he felt like he was missing out on something extraordinary.

She stood quietly as Rick continued to coax the baby into more and more acrobatics. Finally, she'd had enough.

"Rick, I think it's time to go start dinner," she said, laying a hand on his shoulder to convey that she was sorry to interrupt his time with the baby.

"Oh, yeah…you're right, Kate. Ok." He leaned down one more time to kiss her belly. "You better calm down, little Bruce. We'll talk later, ok little dude?"

"Little Bruce? You've named our baby Bruce?"

He looked askance at her. "Well, it's the obvious choice."

"Uh, no. Not to me it isn't. Is that a family name?"

"Of sorts. Just not my family."

"Then where exactly did Bruce come from?"

He grinned at her, reveling in her pretend indignation. "Why, Bruce Lee, of course."

Kate couldn't help but snort. "Ok, that's a fine name for now. We'll have to discuss actual names soon though." She started off towards the kitchen.

Rick stood stock-still for a second; the thought of coming up with some names with his _wife_ for their _child_ was truly inspiring. Then he shouted after Kate, jogging the way she'd disappeared. "What do you mean for now? What's wrong with Bruce?"

* * *

**I'm a rabid knitter—or I used to be. I learned from a PICU nurse a few years ago, and took to it like a duck to water. However, I've knit almost nothing since January, when I embarked on this fic. One thing I'm looking forward to doing again when this story is finished and I have free time again. Plus, I haven't been yarn shopping in ages, or even touched the baby alpaca yarn I bought in Peru. So much to do, so little time.**

**Also, please see AtheaTahiti's reviews for comments from a native Polynesian. She has been very patient with me and all my countless questions. I've put a link on tumblr that have some great, short videos on making tapa. It's a truly amazing process.**


	52. Chapter 52: Atlas Shrugged

**This chapter is dedicated to LoveAbby. Clearly a lover of A/U stories, and adventures based on her favorite stories list. And, as you all know, you can't get much more A/U than stranded on a desert island in 1999. So, thank you LoveAbby and to all of you who've come along on this adventure. **

* * *

April, 2010

Afaitu waited nervously at the closest Newrest bar to the International terminal. It was before 6 am; the flight from L.A. carrying Jim Beckett would be here at any second. Taking another sip of the delectable coffee, Afaitu sighed. He was exhausted and anxious. The events surrounding him had sped up so fast he felt like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz: in the middle of swirling events that were threatening to carry him off. He wondered if he should get a little dog.

Calling Jim to tell him about Martha's discovery that Kate had been pregnant in the year 2000 was absolutely the right thing to do. Learning that Grollet had involved the French Navy—had realized so quickly that Rick was gone and on a boat—had been devastating.

In his own mind, Afaitu knew he needed help. The situation was an enormous strain to handle when it was simply a matter of a long lost world-famous author wrongfully imprisoned in one of the worst prisons in all of France, whose world-famous mother helped obtain his release. Not to mention said world-famous author's ex-girlfriends and various other…girl…friends showing up to 'help'.

That kind of help he could do without. No, he'd felt like a side of beef going through a meat grinder, especially having to watch what he, Rick and Martha all said to the press and the world at large—making sure no one mentioned Kate or the little fact that she was actually alive and well (God willing) and just waiting for someone to come rescue her.

Now with the added bonuses of the fact that there was—were?—a child (children?) involved upped the ante considerably. The press was going to go ape over Kate to start with—Grollet would then have been caught in two lies, and when Kate had her chance to tell them what had happened…well, it was a huge story.

However, it was—at least from the Grollet aspect—mainly a political story. Oh, sure, the notoriety of Rick, the circumstances of the ship wreck, the romance of their falling in love and their survival against all odds made for a pretty compelling story, all in all. But the fallout from their rescue would be political, and political stories don't remain in the forefront of the world's attention for long. Another celebrity always manages to do something stupid, and suddenly no one remembers what they'd all been sighing over the week previous.

Yet, add a cute kid into the mix—a kid who has absolutely no knowledge of the rest of the world—and suddenly you have a plot that will mesmerize people for days, weeks…maybe months. It was far, far beyond what he'd expected when he'd listened with half an ear to Tamahere's initial yarn about the loose pig and the neighbor who wouldn't fix his fence. If he'd only known then what he knew now…

He knew in his heart that he wouldn't have changed a thing. Rick and Kate had desperately needed help, from someone who wasn't looking to exploit them. Tamahere had known enough about the initial situation—after recognizing that his friend Hopo was, in fact, not dead but alive in Nuutania—that he'd sought Afaitu out purposefully. He'd known that Afaitu was the great nephew of Anapa, and that knowledge was enough for him to hope that Afaitu carried a morsel of the morality and ethics that Anapa had exuded.

It had all worked out well. They'd been extremely lucky, fortunate, or whatever word you wanted to use. For having to plan most things by the seat of his derriere, he was very pleased with how it had all been humming along. Until Marcel Laurent had sat down across from him and told him about the French Naval mobilization. Suddenly it was more than clear that this was not some bloodless chess game that he was playing.

Grollet had been backed into a corner, and had come out swinging with missiles. It'd been enough to give Afaitu a continuous burning sensation in his gut and watery diarrhea, though he didn't care to share that with anyone. He'd suspected Grollet would fight back tooth and nail, but the _thought_ of it and the _reality_ of what it meant were two different animals. He just couldn't shoulder this crushing responsibility anymore.

Spying the man who would be his personal version of Atlas, Afaitu stood so abruptly that he spilled coffee on his shirt. Grimacing, he cleaned himself up as best he could while waving simultaneously to get Jim's attention. He had to chuckle to himself as Jim walked towards him. He had learned all about the true meaning of the word catastrophe since meeting Tamahere those weeks ago. Once upon a time, he would have thought coffee stains all over his dress shirt at 6:30 a.m. would have merited the use of the word. Nowadays, he knew it was just an inconvenience.

"Jim! How was the flight?" he queried as he finished cleaning up the spilt Java. Throwing away all the detritus from his wait for the older man, he held his hand out. Jim reached out and shook it, an amused look on his face.

"Fine, fine. Everything ok, son?"

"Yeah, just a little anxious to see you and get you caught up on everything. I've got my car just across the way here, in the garage."

They began walking in the direction he indicated.

"Did everything go well through Customs?"

"Yes, though I think my name must have been flagged. There were raised eyebrows on the customs agent who was reviewing my passport, and she called over her supervisor. They were reading some orders that I couldn't see, and had some pointed questions as to why I was here."

"What'd you tell them?"

"Just what we'd discussed earlier. That Martha needed my help, that I was her agent. It's the truth, and they couldn't find a reason to detain me, but I could see they were flustered. I think it's safe to assume that Grollet knows that I'm here, or soon will."

"Well, it can't be helped. We knew it was a risk, but the advantage of you being here far outweighs it. I just cannot keep up with everything alone."

"I agree, and I'm eager to get started. I slept on the plane, so I'm ready to get down to business. Shall we call Martha and have her meet us somewhere to discuss plans?"

As they exited to the garage, the man who had been following them reached for his cell phone in his pocket. He was going to need further instructions.

* * *

"Are you ready to go back to work tomorrow, baby?" Lanie purred in her husband's ear as he reached for their suitcases in the trunk.

"Wha? No, no I'm not ready. Lanie, I'm still wishin' we was on the beach. Hard to believe only yesterday we was layin' on towels with just our bathing suits on. New York weather really stinks sometimes."

Lanie reached past him to grab a few of the smaller items. "I'm gonna run these up and take a quick shower. You wouldn't think sitting in a car for twelve hours would make you feel gross, but it does."

She gave her hubby a quick kiss, then bounced into their apartment building. She couldn't wait to get out of her clothes and into a hot shower. They'd been in the Hilton Head area for ten days—a second honeymoon of sorts. Married two years now, they were celebrating their marriage, his promotion, and their decision that it was time to start trying for a baby.

Flipping the lights on in the dark foyer, she was momentarily surprised there weren't any newspapers threatening to trip her, until she remembered they'd had them held while they were gone. A neighbor had agreed to get their mail, and the dog was still at the kennel. She sighed; it was good to be home, though they'd really enjoyed their time off.

They'd originally planned to go to Las Vegas. She'd not been for several years, and she'd looked forward to seeing some shows and shopping. Then a friend had mentioned his family's beach house would be open the days they'd taken off: rent was marginal, and it had a private access beach. Unable to turn down such a great deal, they'd driven to South Carolina and fallen in love with the place. It was very private, but close enough to town that they could easily eat out if they wanted.

It had boasted a private pool, hot tub, exceptional views of the Atlantic, and a master suite to die for. They'd spent nearly all their time just by themselves. In the end, she thought it was a far better way to engage with her spouse. They'd been alone to reconnect, were able to just be with each other and not worry about gambling or going to shows or running around the Strip. She felt completely relaxed and content.

Nothing had interfered with their alone time. They'd agreed to leave the world behind, so to speak, and hadn't watched TV or been online to check email or anything else. It had been like they were in their own little bubble, and nothing and no one could penetrate the shell. They'd even turned their cells off for the trip: they took them, in case something happened, but they left them off for the duration.

However, reality was slowly re-emerging into sight. Being out of touch with the world for ten days had been great, but she was ready to talk to someone other than her husband. The blinking of her notifications as her phone rebooted showed she'd missed a number of calls and even more texts. Debating whether to put them off until after her shower or not, she decided she'd better look at them and at least make sure everyone she loved was still alive.

Oddly, it appeared most of the calls and texts were from Jenny O'Malley. She was Kevin's new girlfriend*, and it seemed that they were getting pretty serious. Lanie had met her two months previously, and the two women had really hit it off. There weren't many women in her line of work, and even fewer that Lanie liked well enough to get to know better. Jenny was sweet and bubbly; innocent on the outside, though she had enough of a hidden wild streak that she and Lanie got on very well.

Terrified that something had happened to Kevin, Lanie decided to call without reading the texts or listening to any of the messages.

"Lanie?"

"Hey, Jenny. Yeah, we're back. Just pulled in and turned my phone on. Saw you'd left a bunch of messages."

"Oh, yeah, oh my gosh. Sorry about that. I didn't mean to scare you."

Lanie gasped in relief. "So you and Kev are both ok? I was so worried."

"No, no. We're fine. How was the trip?"

Lanie gushed about their vacation, heart rate slowly settling down as the adrenaline prompted by the fear she'd experienced on seeing so many messages dissipated.

"Sounds like you two had a great time."

"Yeah, we really did. It's a long car ride though. We listened to a couple of books on tape, though my husband wasn't too impressed with my choices. It's a good thing he loves me so much." This was directed at the man in question more than anything, as he schlepped their bags in the front door. He just grinned, then nodded in understanding at her silent mouthing of Jenny's name when he raised his eyebrows and looked at her phone.

Jenny laughed. "Oh, Lanie, you two have such a great relationship. I hope to have your kind of marriage someday."

"Well, it takes work, believe me, girl. But, he's worth it. Listen, I should get off of here; my big, strong man just brought in the rest of our stuff and I want to get some laundry done before it gets too late."

"Ok, I'm so glad you're back. But, hey, before I forget, did you happen to catch any of the news while you were gone?"

Lanie paused as she was about to hang up. "Uh, no. We didn't want to have anything intrude on our time, so we never even turned on the TV. Why?"

"Well, I was just wondering if you'd seen the news about the rescue. He was with your friend, wasn't he? I was sure I remember you talking about her once. It happened all so long ago, I know you don't like to think about it. But what if she's alive too? I mean they found him, so maybe she's.."

"Jenny!" Lanie couldn't get a word in edgewise—a very unusual circumstance for her. Bemused by her friend's verbal diarrhea, she hadn't made heads or tails of what Jenny was trying to tell her. "Now, remember I have no idea what you're talking about. Start at the beginning, please?"

"Oh, sorry, Lanie! I just get so caught up in it. It's so romantic. Anyway, weren't you friends with that girl who was shipwrecked in Tahiti? Kate Beckett?"

Lanie felt the fizz of adrenaline racing through her again. Clutching the handset tighter, she managed only a curt response. "Yes."

"Well, remember she was on the same boat as that mystery writer? Rick Castle? I remember wondering what he was doing all the way out there on a cargo ship, but one of my friends told me he was researching a new character. I would never have thought that he'd need to go that far away. He was quite the playboy, back then, right? I remember reading one time in People that…"

"Jenny! What about Kate?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Well, they found him."

"I don't understand. They found the shipwreck? His body?"

"No, Lanie. They found him. Alive. After 10 years. Can you believe it?"

Lanie felt dizzy. Couldn't imagine that someone would be found ten years later, especially given the circumstances under which they'd been lost. It was unthinkable. "And Kate?" she asked faintly. "What about her?"

"I haven't seen anything about her. It's been all over the news here. Much more exciting than that big oil spill in the Gulf, though that is really, really sad. I feel so bad for all the poor animals and birds."

"Jenny, I have to go. Thank you so much for calling." Lanie hung up as her friend was chattering her goodbye. She felt numb. Could Kate have been alive this whole time? Where was she? What had happened?

Looking up, she saw her husband staring at her with concern.

"Are you all right? You look like you've seen a ghost. What'd Jenny say?"

Lanie looked at him with both hope and dread. She'd spent months coming to grips with Kate's death, and the fact that her friend had only been in the South Pacific because Lanie had practically forced her to go. The guilt and the memories dredged up by the mention of the wreck were always bubbling just beneath the surface; normally she could ruthlessly suppress them, but if there was a chance Kate was alive….

"Javi, you need to go right now and buy all the newspapers you can find that mention Richard Castle."

* * *

Rick woke drenched in sweat. He'd been dreaming…well, it was more like a nightmare. He'd arrived at the island—it was exactly as he remembered it, right down to the beaches outside the channel. He'd gotten in a boat; the nervous excitement of seeing them all again warring with his body, making him tremble as he tried to navigate safely through the rocks waiting to tear them apart. He'd made it though, popping through the channel and into the lake inside the island.

He'd started screaming, yelling their names. The dock was gone: no trace of it or the boats anywhere to be seen. He rammed the vessel carrying him onto the beach, jumping out before it had come to a halt. Running, he continued crying for them. It was silent. Ominously so—no birdsong, no insect hum. Just the sound of the wind rustling through empty spaces and his voice echoing back to him.

The kitchen was gone. Racing past it into the trees that gave way to the clearing where he'd built their house, he fell to his knees. Nothing was there. Nothing that even resembled anything of their time together. They had never been. He'd collapsed to the sandy floor, wanting nothing more than to crawl into the earth and finding oblivion.

That's when he woke up. It had felt so real: he could almost taste the sand in his mouth. The tears streaming down his face were irrefutable evidence of how scared he'd been. Wiping them away in haste, he concentrated on thinking of her and that she was _still_ there. Waiting for him. Alive and well. He clutched his wedding ring, hanging on its cord as it had since he'd received it back. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on how she felt. Her scent. The way her hair looked in the sunlight. Her smile. The joy she had with the children. She was _fine_. _They_ were fine. They _had_ to be.

It was late morning. He'd been shoved into his cabin by Salesi shortly after confessing to the group how many kids he had. The memories had so overwhelmed him that he'd been lost to everyone for some time, recalling different scenes and events with his family. The rest of the men with him had seen how exhausted he was, especially after being forced to tell them the truth that he'd kept hidden for so long. So scared that revealing it would lead to further disaster. So, they'd put Salesi in charge of him, and his babysitter had decided that he needed to sleep. Right then. It had been a long day and longer night, so Rick hadn't argued. Much.

Now that he was dressed and the last vestiges of that awful nightmare purged from his brain, he was ready to see what the plan was going to be. Between them all, he was confident something reasonable could be drawn up.

He walked into the lounge where he'd last seen the rest of the men. Salesi was seated in a chair. He acknowledged Rick with a tiny nod, but it was enough. Rick knew, no matter what else might happen, that Salesi had his back. It was a comfort, in a world of discomfort.

Tamahere was drinking a cup of coffee; of the journalists, only Laurent was present. Rick suspected Ari'i was up on the bridge. Tamahere stood as soon as Rick had poured himself a cup of the ships nasty coffee. It was far better than what he'd had to drink in Nuutania or on the island…in other words something was better than nothing.

"Hopo, now that you are awake and able to think, I will go get Ari'i so we can make our plans."

Rick nodded, sitting next to Salesi. He might need the big guy for support. Tamahere left the room. Rick could feel Laurent looking at him. Let him look. He could not be intimidated by methods like this. He'd survived prison with far worse than uncomfortable silences being the price for staring at someone.

Laurent seemed to realize that normal methods were not going to impress Rick, so he moved to sit closer to the two other men, then opened a dialog as best he could.

"M. Rodgers, I believe you're aware that Afaitu allowed me a copy of your writing so far?"

Rick shrugged. "I was not aware of that; it just said he told you the story, or that you read it. Why did he give you a copy?"

"I believe it was because he trusted me, although he didn't have much choice at the time. I hope you'll develop the same trust. We are on the same side here."

"What side is that, exactly?"

"You want to rescue Kate and the children with no harm coming to any of them, _vrai_?

"Yes. But what is it that you want?"

"I want nothing more than your story. As I'm the only journalist here, it seems my wish is coming true. I will get the exclusive on your life with Kate on the island."

"And if we refuse to give you the full story?"

"I do not think that is advisable, monsieur. You know as well as I that Grollet is searching for her. Your best hope, for her and the children's safety, is to get her story out as quickly as possible."

Rick nodded, staring absently into his cup. The plan about giving Laurent the story made sense. He knew from the note the night before that they had access to the AFP satellites. That the minute Laurent went live with his story of Kate, that she was safe. The world would not abide Grollet harming her once they knew she was alive and well.

The part that they had to figure out first, was how to separate enough from the naval ships to hide where they were going. If they steamed right towards the island, she was as good as dead. Grollet had access to much faster means of transportation. Since neither cargo boat was noted to be especially quick, it seemed impossible to remain on board.

If they were able to somehow slip past the watchful eyes and ears employed by the Snake, the next problem would be arriving back to Fenua Pari with at least one journalist (and probably his whole crew) in tow. It would be obvious to Kate that she had no say in whether she would be participating in the interview. His wife was not one for surprises, not ones that impacted her life.

His hope was that she would understand the pressing need for them to present the story to the world. She was an incredible mother, and she'd never put her children at risk. Of course, after being gone for so long, he hoped she'd listen to him. His disappearance had been a complete accident, and he knew without even asking that she'd been grieved and worried for him all these months. She'd be ecstatic to see him, but angry that he'd disappeared in the first place.

"Gentleman, I'm glad you're all here," Ari'i stated as he strode through the door, Tamahere trailing just behind. "We have some important decisions to make."

He was holding a black rectangle, about the size of a piece of paper. It was very thin, but it looked like it was glass. Rick had no idea what it was for. Ari'i motioned for the rest of them to follow him. They filed into the attached dining room and all sat at a table, waiting expectantly for the captain to lead things off.

"M. Laurent, do you wish to have your colleagues to join us?"

"_Oui_, that would be a good idea." He started to stand, but Ari'i waved him down. He had a walkie-talkie type of gadget, and asked to have the two men sent to them. Then he opened the discussion.

"As you all know, we are being monitored. Our movements are mirrored by some Naval ships. I have no doubt this is through the actions of the President, as M. Laurent has told us about. However, neither I nor Reva have the capability in our ships to do anything about it. We had initially believed that there might only be one ship to outmaneuver. That is not the case."

While he was speaking, Guilbert and Loison entered and sat down, also listening attentively.

"Sir, if I may, there are some plans that we did not speak of last night, given our late arrival and the high emotion surrounding our appearance," Laurent said.

Ari'i nodded at him and encouraged him to continue.

"Afaitu was aware of the difficulties you faced, and said much the same as you have. Fortunately, Loison here is a veteran of planning stories that are very difficult—whether they are remote, or just in inhospitable places. To that end, we were very fortunate he was here. He made some arrangements before we left, and I believe we have a solution."

The eyes of the group turned to Loison. Rick had thought he looked unfriendly and aloof the night before. However, as he began to spell out the plan, Rick quickly revised his impression. The man was a genius. A genius who was going to help rescue his family.

* * *

The private line rang. Only one person it could be.

"What?" As he listened to what Tane had to report, Henri felt a wave of ice cold panic grip him. Ruthlessly shoving it down, he barked at Tane to get his ass over to the Presidential office ASAP.

After hanging up, he barked again, this time at his secretary to get Vice-Amiral Evrard on the line for him. Waiting for the call, he leaned back in his chair, one arm thrown over his eyes. Jim Beckett was here. What did it mean?

When his secretary finally patched the Vice-Amiral through, Henri had regained his equanimity. Listening to the report, he decided it was close enough to time. He told the Naval chief what he wanted, then quashed all of his concerns and blathering. Grollet didn't care what was and what was not protocol. He would do what he wanted. It was why he was President. He knew what he wanted and he went after it.

Tane arrived about twenty minutes later, travel bag in hand.

"Did you bring everything you'll need?" Henri couldn't help but ask. He could take no risks, no chances at this stage.

"Yeah."

"You've got everything? Nothing you'll need later?"

"I'm ready, sir. I've got it all."

"Good, because we're leaving on a helicopter in ten minutes, to fly to the naval base. They'll take us to the main ship coordinating the search from the base. We'll have it all taken care of soon, Tane. It's so close, I can taste it. I just don't want anything left to chance."

Tane set his bag down. "Do you want to see it for yourself?"

"No, no. That's not necessary. You said you've got it, I believe you. And you've got all your supplies?"

Tane nodded.

"Ok, that's good. Just need to be sure. Because I'm pretty certain the French Navy isn't going to just hand you a gun or ammunition."

* * *

***Jenny O'Malley's first appearance on screen was at the end of "The Mistress Always Spanks Twice," which aired originally March 8, 2010. Thus, Kevin and Jenny's relationship was relatively new in April, 2010.**

**So, the scene everyone has been waiting for will be arriving soon (meaning by Chapter 60). It will not be easy getting there. In fact, hold on tight as we are cresting the hill of this roller coaster and you can't see the track beneath you. Hope you're buckled in securely, put your hands in the air, and feel free to (virtually) scream along with everyone else through PMs, reviews, or into a mail box (a la Barney Rubble). **


	53. Chapter 53: For Those About to Rock

**This is Garrae posting for Drdit, who is having a horribly busy time. Drdit didn't have time to write a dedication this time, but I do.**

****This chapter is dedicated to Drdit92, for writing this amazing story and sharing it with us. Drdit will undoubtedly never dedicate a chapter to themselves, but they deserve one.****

* * *

October, 2000

Twenty five weeks. They were twenty five weeks. It was an amazing, frightening number. There were only fifteen weeks, plus or minus, to go. She wasn't ready. He wasn't ready. They were going to have to be ready.

Rick had worked non-stop on the birthing shelter. It was actually connected to the kitchen, making the whole thing look L shaped. He'd added a covered walk at one end, so they could move from the kitchen to the shelter without getting wet, if it were raining. The tub would be along the wall that bordered the kitchen sink.

However, it was the tub that was giving him fits. He'd tried a few different designs, without much success. Using bamboo as the sides was simply going to require far too much caulking.

Kate had come upon him sulking one day, about 2 days after he'd finished the shelter and its roof. She had woven some mats for half walls; the baby was due during rainy season, and they both wanted the area as dry as possible.

"What's the matter?"

"This stupid tub," he muttered, kicking some of the offending bamboo pieces he'd started to cut to size. "It's never going to work, unless I practically empty a whole breadfruit tree's sap onto it. If I could use a real saw, and some industrial glue, I could do strips of them. But that's a fantasy. The reality is bamboo is just not going to work."

"I can see that."

"I wanted to work on it next, so you could enjoy it while you were pregnant."

"It's fine, Rick. Why don't you move on to the next project, and we'll both keep thinking about ways to make a tub."

He kicked another piece of bamboo. "Ok, Kate."

She just smiled. He could be such a stubborn child about some things. Of course, so could she, but she would never admit it out loud. Besides, Rick already was well aware of her shortcomings. He loved her anyway.

Rick started in on the construction of what he called the birthing chair—which he could and did make from bamboo. It was low to the ground, but could adjust to several different positions—both the back and the seat. It was a marvelous contraption, and when he showed her, she was quite impressed. He'd even made some armrests for her to grip.

Finally, he made a rope device that hung from the rafters. Not clear on its purpose, Kate was quite curious about it.

"It's a way to suspend you if you want to be able to stand and squat at different times. This is actually more accurate to how women give birth on the islands, but they usually have a ton of family to support them."

"Why do they squat? In the movies and on TV the women are always laying down."

"Hina told me that most women prefer to let gravity help. She said it's faster, in terms of engaging the baby, and more comfortable for the mother. I wanted to give you options, and since we don't have others to help hold you up, this is the next best thing."

Kate felt her heart turning to a puddle of goo over his thoughtfulness. A few tears trailed down her cheeks, and she sniffed a couple of times.

"Hey now. Why are you crying?"

"I just love you so much, Rick. And you know I'll cry for nearly any reason these days."

It was true. She'd been caught crying over a little baby lizard that had had the misfortune of catching two of their chickens hungry eyes. She'd not been able to move fast enough to rescue it, and a bewildered Rick couldn't figure out the story for over half an hour as she cried violently against his shoulder, sobbing out unhelpful words like 'baby', 'chicken' and 'lizard' at such random moments he couldn't put the story together at all.

"So, now that this part is done, what else are you planning to do?"

"Well, the stupid tub is still off the table. I haven't figured it out yet. But, I'm going to make a small fire pit in here, so that we can boil water in here without having to go back and forth to the kitchen. I know it's only a few steps, but I want to be at hand for everything."

Kate nodded. It made sense, though she wasn't sure why they needed so much boiling water. However, on every show with a lady giving birth that she'd ever seen on TV the women told the men to go boil water, so it must be a key thing to do.

"I've got a few shelves to build. We'll use them to store linens and dry grass to use to line the floor when the time comes. And after the baby is born, we're planning on using this area as storage, so we'll need a few shelves anyway."

"Ok, well, it sounds like you've got work lined up. I'm gonna go do some foraging. We need more breadfruit and the taros need to be divided."

"Do you have your whistle?"

She nodded. She always wore it. Thankfully, they'd never had to use it, but she'd be loath to leave it behind. Bad things were bound to happen when you weren't prepared.

Grabbing a basket, she decided to walk away from the waterfall. Rick had to walk that way every day, in order to check on the pipes they were using for watering the trees and plants, along with the one that ran to the house. He'd gathered all the ripe fruit he could see. Their second taro patch was towards the bamboo grove, and since he hadn't needed to cut anything for a while, she was certain she'd find a bunch of food.

She discovered a treasure trove before she'd gone far. Which was nice, as the baby was pushing on some nerve in her back, and walking was painful. To say the least. Reaching down, she pushed on his head gently.

"Hey, buddy. You're hurting momma. Any chance of moving a bit in there?"

He kicked a few times in response, but kept his butt firmly on top of the nerve that seemed to be responsible for transmitting pain from her right leg directly to her cortex.

"Should have known that you'd be as stubborn as your father," she muttered, casting about for someplace to sit and try and reposition the demon-Rodgers child.

Spying a fallen tree she'd walked past earlier, she started to sit in the middle of it, but noticed just in time that it was partially rotted at the top. She moved down its length until finally finding a solid area to rest on.

"C'mon, kid. Give your old mom a break." She partially reclined, then tried poking at him some more. That led to some irritable kicks, but no change in position. Exasperated, she resorted to the next level up: she started applying gentle pressure to the side of him that was sitting on her nerve. At first he just gave another flurry of kicks, but then suddenly—finally—he shifted his butt. Gasping in relief, she sat up, though she decided to rest for a bit longer.

Reaching down to rub her belly softly, she continued the conversation from earlier.

"Listen, we've got another 15 weeks, longer if you decide to really be stubborn. And don't think I'm encouraging that, either. But, you're going to run out of room, and I'm going to be hot and miserable. So, please give me a break once in a while, ok?"

She got what felt like an elbow in response. Since it was better than nothing, she elected to count it as a victory and gathered her things. It was time to head back; she'd gathered enough, and she wanted to lie down for a bit. As she cast around for the basket, she took another look at the fallen tree she was sitting on. It had been a large candlenut tree. A grin flashed across her face; she couldn't wait to get back and talk to Rick.

* * *

Rick groaned, sweat pouring off of his body. He wasn't sure this was going to work. Pushing with all his might, it finally moved. An inch. Maybe. But, it was one inch closer to the hut, right?

It was now mid-October. Kate had bounced back to Pereora talking about some tree she'd sat on. He hadn't really paid much attention, truth be told, until she dragged him out to look at it. Then, realization dawned.

The middle part was nearly hollow. What wasn't missing was rotten and ready to be removed. The empty portion was roughly five feet long and several feet wide. Rick had understood what Kate was excited about the minute he saw it. It was the perfect natural bathtub. In the forest. Relocating it was proving that perhaps it ought to stay in the wild.

First, he'd spent four days chopping through the incredibly tough trunk that bookended the hollow. Then, he'd taken a break for 3 days while they'd gone to the outside beach. They both felt it would be too dangerous as Kate's pregnancy advanced. She was still fairly mobile right now.

They'd spent their days fishing, gathering some more sponges, and Rick secretly gathered a few more pearls. He now had ten good sized ones, all beautifully round or nearly so. They looked great hanging from the cord he'd made for her.

Once back from the outer beach, he'd resumed bathtub duty, this time hollowing out what was left of the middle, and taking the bark off the outside. The result was a breathtaking tub—a work of nature augmented somewhat by his own hands. It would be amazing—if he could get the damn thing back to Pereora.

Which was why he was now losing gallons of sweat and contaminating the surrounding air with curse words, some of which he simply made up on the spot. There was no way he could drag it alone. Even less likely than "no way in hell" that he'd let Kate anywhere near the thing. So, he had to come up with some other clever plan when clever plan number one (brute strength) came up far short of the mark.

He'd opted to try bamboo rollers, which sort of worked. The lever attempt from a candlenut tree branch did not. The ground was too soft to gain any purchase with it. Then, he just tried pushing it. It wasn't far, thank goodness, but any distance is too long if the object you're trying to move weighs a ton. Plus or minus a few thousand pounds.

It was just really awkward to try and push the thing from behind. He knew the rollers would work—if he could get some momentum going. Sitting down on the ground, he leaned against the tub and thought about how people would do this in the past. The pyramids were composed of giant blocks of rock, after all. Yet, they'd had access to multitudes of manual laborers. He had one: Richard Rodgers.

Suddenly, the image of a man pulling a giant passenger plane sprang into his head. Pushing wasn't the answer—pulling was what he needed to do.

The rest of that day and the next were occupied with making, fitting, adjusting, then using a harness. It went over his shoulders, then ran to the tub and attached firmly there. Thus, combined with his roller idea, Richard Rodgers was able to bring a giant wooden tub to his wife. He had to do a little expansion of the shelter, but in the end they had a marvelous bathtub—one they could both fit in quite comfortably together. They weren't able to try it out until the end of October, but the wait was worth it.

* * *

November, 2000

Twenty nine weeks. Kate felt like she was going to hyperventilate. Actually, come to think of it, she did feel short of breath most days. Her belly was enormous at this point. Sleeping was becoming more and more of a challenge. She'd made a body pillow weeks ago, which definitely helped. However, she had to get up frequently to use the bathroom, so consecutive hours of sleep were growing shorter and shorter.

Rick had made her stop trying to waddle to the outhouse in the middle of the night after she'd tripped and fallen one dark, moonless night. Luckily, she'd been able to hang on to the handrail and so twisted to land on her hip. Her cries of pain had brought him to terrified wakefulness, and they'd both been relieved when her only injuries were an ugly bruise down the side of her leg and a wrenched wrist.

"No more walking to the outhouse at night."

"Rick, I have to pee like every half hour. This kid is parked on my bladder. Just how is that order going to work?"

"Kate, it's too dangerous. Even with the handrail, the path is too uneven, and you can't see it in the dark."

"What do you suggest I do then, Rick? Are you installing flush toilets next?"

He just sighed and gave her a look that she'd hurt him a bit. She'd have felt guilty, too, if the baby hadn't chosen that very moment to drop kick her in the ribs.

"Oof."

"What is it? Are you ok?"

"Fine," she gasped.

"You don't sound fine. Are you sure you're ok?"

"I'm fine. Your kid thinks I'm his personal punching bag, is all."

"Oh. Sorry."

"What're you sorry for? Nothing you can do about it."

"Ooookay, Kate. Listen, back to the outhouse at night issue. I seriously don't want you going that far."

"Rick, please give me another option, because I'm not seeing a chamber pot and maid waiting around for me."

"Yes, Miss Cranky Pants. Want to know what I think you should do?"

"First of all, I'm not wearing any pants," she declared. "Second of all, yes!"

"Use the shower."

She gaped at him. Perhaps pregnancy, in its advance stages, induced a mild form of hearing loss. She wished for the fifteen thousandth time that they had a book about pregnancy and babies with them. The third trimester was not pleasant, and if she couldn't understand what her partner was saying to her, it would be even worse than originally thought.

"The shower, Kate. It's got a drain, and we use it pretty much every day, so nothing will sit around in there. I'll even make you a little stool to sit on, if you want."

The argument had ended with Rick winning—not that he'd had to be too firm: her leg had hurt like heck from the bruise, and it had really scared her how easily she could fall. She was so awkward on her feet these days. Her center of gravity had shifted markedly towards the front, and she seemed to be in danger of falling even on smooth ground.

The only time she felt still like herself was when she was swimming in the lake. The water felt so nice on her often overheated skin, not to mention how buoyant it was. She wasn't ungainly in the water.

She shifted in her seat. She was supposed to be lying down for an hour or two this afternoon. However, she'd felt like sweeping the house first, then had spent some time reorganizing the shelves that held the blankets she'd made. Rick was putting a crib together this week; they had already made a mattress for it. She'd also finished her sling, and had a few items to try to use as diapers. It would be an experiment to see what, if anything, worked.

Rick had spent an afternoon pressing more candlenuts. He had made some torches, and larger oil lamps. He'd wanted to be ready if the baby came at night. Other than knitting some more clothing and covers for the baby, Kate felt like she couldn't do anymore. Physically, she couldn't do more. Most days were spent waddling from the house to the kitchen and back again. A trip to the lake each evening, swimming with her husband, was usually the highlight.

Rick had made her another chair with a back to it and a footstool to put her legs up. It sat in the dining area, and was where she tended to knit. She'd stopped banging on tapa cloth, as it hurt her wrist to do so now. She felt bloated half the time, though she didn't have any swelling. Rick checked her every night for leg swelling, and was pleased nothing beyond some mild fluid retention had appeared.

After dinner that night, Kate used the outhouse one last time before night fell, then joined Rick on the front porch as the sun descended into fiery clouds.

He pulled out a piece of paper that was covered in ink: his writing on one side, hers the other. They'd used up the last of his pen in the process, though Rick was confident he could make ink from some of the various nuts and roots found on the island.

"Ok, we're getting down to the nitty gritty, Kate. We've eliminated many; just a few remain. However, I have a question."

She looked askance at him. When did he not have a question? The man was more curious than George. "Yes, Rick, what is your question?"

"Does it have to be narrowed down to just one each? What if we have a few for each and decide once he or she arrives?"

"The problem with that, is that I'm afraid we'll still be arguing about it even after the birth. I'll name him Max and you'll call him Ethan, for example. I think we should agree on something. We're not far apart."

Rick nodded, acquiescing. He wouldn't deny her much these days. He could see how much the pregnancy took out of her, especially as the hot, rainy season was rapidly approaching.

"So, let's do boy names first. You know, this might be easier than if we were trying to do it in New York." Her raised eyebrow prompted him to explain. "If we had a full book of baby names and their meanings, how long do you think it would have taken us to figure something out? Here, it's just what names we can remember. Not having any idea of their meanings makes it hard, but I doubt any of them mean something horrible."

"I'm just sure we're missing a bunch of names, and we'll have lost the opportunity to name him or her something great, but didn't because we were stuck on an island in the middle of nowhere," Kate replied.

"Yeah, but if he hates it, he can always change it if he wants to. It's not like he'd be saddled with it forever. Besides, we've thought of classic names. It's hard to imagine he'll grow up hating it."

Kate nodded. "Ok, I guess I buy that. Should we start?"

"You're still against using your dad's name?"

Kate's nod was sharp and unmistakable. "He's a drunk. I wouldn't name a dog after him."

Rick kept his own counsel. He'd been married to Kate just since March, but he couldn't imagine life without her. He pitied poor Jim Beckett, wherever he was and in whatever state of inebriation he existed. The man had lost his beloved wife, due to an act without any regard to humanity. Rick couldn't condone the drinking, but he understood it.

"Ok, I've got Benjamin, Patrick, Ethan, Alexander and Robert. Robert is my favorite…we could call him Robbie."

"Really, Rick? Robbie Rodgers?"

Rick's face deflated. "Oh, I hadn't sounded that out in my head. Yeah, I don't like that."

"I like all of yours except for Ethan, and Robert. I've got Daniel and I like Joseph for a middle name. Are you sure you don't want Richard in there?"

"Uh, no. I don't want my kid being called Dick and Dicky like I was. Rick is a good name, but I hate Ricky, and only my mother calls me Richard. I think it'd be confusing. I could see it being a middle name, but not a first name."

"Alexander Richard? Or is that too cutesy?"

"Too cutesy, Kate. If you really want to use a piece of my name, I think Alexander is fine. Did you pick Joseph for a particular reason?"

"It was my mom's father's name. He was a great grandfather to me; I loved him a lot, and I'd like to honor him somehow."

"Ok, how about Alexander Joseph? He could be Alex or Xander, or AJ. Do you hate any of those?"

"No, those are all ok with me," she replied.

"Anything you'd like better?"

"Honestly, no. What about a Tahitian name?"

"I could give you some names, but I certainly don't know all of them," he explained.

"Well, we agreed that we didn't want to use it for the first name, but I'd like to honor the place where we fell in love and where the baby will be born."

"We could have two middle names."

"I think I like that idea best," she responded slowly. "What are some boy names?"

"Well, there's Rahiti, Purotu, Tehei, Teva to start with."

"I like Rahiti, but what about honoring Anapa?" she asked.

"Alexander Joseph Anapa Rodgers? I think it works," he grinned. "I learned so much from Anapa; I think he'd be pleased with the baby carrying his name."

Rick, I think we have our boy name!"

"Almost too easy. I'm sure the girl name will be a bigger challenge."

Two hours later, they'd moved the argument…discussion…to the bed. After a lot of compromises and passionate defenses of certain names, they finally agreed to a girl name as well: Sarah Katherine Eeva. It was the first middle name that Kate objected to; she'd wanted her grandmother's name. Rick had hated the sound of it with their chosen first name. He thought 'Sarah Rose' sounded too frilly. Or something like that.

Kate had finally given in when he'd explained how beautiful he found her name. Plus, the boy name used part of his personal name; he wanted Kate to use part of hers for their little girl. They had their names. It was now just a matter of staying healthy, finishing the little projects that were needed before the baby came, and preparing for the birth. Kate thought the last weeks left would never pass.

* * *

A burning sensation in her throat woke her…again. Her chest felt as though it were on fire. This had become an all too familiar sensation over the last few weeks. It had started off slowly, appearing around late September. She'd only noticed it once or twice a week, and it was fairly mild. It had progressed as her child grew, shoving her own parts upwards and squishing organs that didn't like to be squished. She assumed. Certainly her stomach had declared war.

She tried to reach for the bottle of water sitting on a side table Rick had installed for her a month or so ago. Unfortunately, her position—lying on her side, with her body pillow underneath her belly and supporting her top leg—did not allow her to stretch that far. Rick had anchored the bed tightly to the floor, so it had a very limited amount of sway. It was either slowly sit up on her own and eventually be able to reach the bottle, or wake Rick up. It wasn't even a hard choice.

"Rick," she gave him a tap with her hand, but could barely reach him. He'd stopped spooning with her weeks ago when she kept shoving him awake and telling him he was too hot. And she didn't mean in a handsome fashion.

"Rick." This time she reached out with a foot—much easier to accomplish shaking his legs.

"Whaa, whaat? What is it Kate?"

"I need help. I can't reach my water bottle."

"Ok."

He was adorably monosyllabic in his fatigue. She thought it was near dawn judging from the building dawn chorus of the birds. Sadly, she'd become more and more of an expert in assessing the stages of the night after being awake for pretty much all portions at one time or another in the last month.

Rick stumbled out of bed, coming around to her side. He grabbed a few pillows that had been tossed to the floor earlier when she was feeling too hot and placed them against the short backboard he'd included in the bed frame. He then gently helped her maneuver to a sitting position, handing her the water bottle when she was comfortable.

She sipped in relief. It didn't relieve the heartburn for long, but she didn't have a lot of alternatives. It was hard to imagine how she was going to make it 9 more weeks with this nightly torture. Between the heartburn and the peeing every half hour, she was beginning to question why anyone would willingly have more than one child.

"All better?"

She nodded her thanks. Unfortunately, the movement and Rick's voice woke the baby, who promptly let her know in no uncertain terms what he thought of the vanishing room in her uterus.

"Is he kicking again?" Rick could see she was in pain. She nodded miserably. He walked back around to his side of the bed and climbed up beside her. Laying his hands on the baby, he could feel just how active the little guy was being.

"Hey, hey, calm down in there. This is your father, and you need to learn to listen to me. It's a special day for your mom, and you need to be good for her."

Kate hadn't been really paying attention to what he said. Whatever it was about Rick's voice, it always seemed to work on their baby. He'd almost always settle down if Rick talked to him and gave her tummy a light massage. She relaxed back into the pillows, his words still echoing in her mind. Cracking an eye, she saw him looking at her with such love and devotion it made her heart skip a beat.

"What special day? I'm not sure what you're talking about, Rick."

"Kate, it's your birthday! Happy birthday, my love."

* * *

**Thoughts? Love to hear them in whatever form you choose to use. **


	54. Chapter 54: We Salute You

**This chapter is dedicated to YahLiz. She has been a staunch supporter since finding this story, and I've really enjoyed her comments and correspondence. Thanks for all the kind words!**

**Special thanks go out to Garrae for posting my last chapter. I've had rough weeks at work, but this was beyond crazy. The hospital even closed to admissions without first getting permission from administrators. As a pulmonologist, we are always busy in the winter, but this time of year is usually our low census. Sadly, I'm back on service the Monday of Castle's Season 7 premiere. Hopefully I can stay awake for it.**

* * *

April, 2010

"Capitaine, you have an urgent message from Vice-Amiral Evrard."

Stephane Tissot sighed. Since being ordered away from port and into a wild goose chase involving two innocuous looking cargo ships, he'd grown to dread more orders from headquarters. His crew was tired. They'd deserved to be able to make port and relax, as they'd planned.

This was torture, this sitting and waiting for something to happen. He wasn't even sure what it was the cargo ships were supposed to do. He was to just watch them and try and figure out where they were going. Well, they were going east. There. Done.

Not.

"Oui, I'll take it in my quarters." Trudging back to his cabin, he failed to appreciate the beautiful dawn sky. The forecast predicted another clear, hot day. Yet Tissot had no eyes for the natural wonders around him. His weary head just wanted whatever this mission was supposed to accomplish to be done and over with so that they could turn back for Papeete.

Unfortunately, he had a feeling of dread that wasn't easily suppressed. Long ago he'd learned to trust his gut instinct—a trust repaid over and over as he learned to survive the capricious whims of the ocean. These days his gut was roiling in response to any news from headquarters. It was not likely to be the orders he most wanted to see: come back to port. Thus, he wanted to be alone when he first read them. It would give him time to come to terms with whatever they had to do before having to present it to his men.

Once he reached the privacy of his cabin, he first poured himself a stiff brandy. He wasn't technically on duty—his watch had been over thirty minutes ago. He'd just stayed on the bridge for a while, not having much else to do and too keyed up to sleep.

Deciding he couldn't avoid it further, he tore open the message. He read it once, then two more times. It was short and to the point. Crumpling the message in his hands, he hurled it across the small space. For the first time in his career, he began to seriously consider retirement from the Navy that he loved.

* * *

"Jim!"

"Martha!"

Afaitu smiled as the two old friends hugged each other. It was now mid-morning. Martha had been delayed by a phone call from Celeste—a press briefing that they'd been working on in the U.S. for a few days now. Jim had taken advantage and checked into his hotel room. He'd selected a different hotel from Martha and Rick, figuring it might disguise his presence from the press for a few more days, if they were lucky.

They'd finally been able to meet at a small diner set near Martha's hotel, yet off the normal tourist beat. There wasn't much business between breakfast and lunch, so Afaitu figured it would be a perfect place to meet. Anyone following them would be very obvious, and he knew that Grollet was aware that Jim was here—it was an obvious conclusion after the grilling at the airport given to the older man.

Settling into the small booth, he sat alone while the other two greeted each other. They seemed lost to his presence, initially. It hadn't been long since they'd last seen one another, but so much had changed between them in a short time span.

"Can you believe it, Jim? We have a grandchild." Martha's hands were trembling, as she reached out and patted Jim on his shoulder. She seemed to need the reassurance that touching her friend gave her.

"No, Martha, I can't. It's hard to take in. First, not knowing if Katie is ok, and now that she's a mother? It's difficult to comprehend." Jim captured one of her hands and grasped it tightly in his. His hands were steady, but Afaitu could hear the emotion trembling in his voice.

"I never thought I'd have my son back, let alone a grandchild. I simply cannot wait to hear that they're all safe and sound. I hope once we know everything is ok, that we can all meet someplace. Just family. We have so much catching up to do."

"I'm still trying to process it. I mean, I love Nicholas and Michael as if they're my own, but I met them when they were already grown. Their children are truly my grandchildren, but to be able to have a child of Katie's in my life…it's just surreal."

Martha wiped away the stray tears tracking down her cheeks. "I never imagined I'd have any moment like this. Not after being told my Richard was gone. He was all I had."

Jim embraced her again. "Now you not only have your son back, but a whole family waiting for you. You deserve so much, my friend."

Martha clung to him tightly, crying a bit harder. Afaitu watched it all with a lump in his throat and the feeling that he was a third wheel in this intimate exchange. He'd come to care a lot for Rick's mom. She'd been brilliant in her role to help him obtain Rick's release from jail. He just hoped that the entire family would be together soon for the first time in a decade. They all deserved so much more happiness than they'd received recently. He was just happy to play a role in their rescue and reunification.

* * *

"Ms. Harper, Ms. Harper!" Meredith stopped, turning naturally so that her left side—her best side—was displayed.

"Yes?"

"Hi, Kelsey Webb, from People magazine."

Meredith knew who she was. She'd walked past the reporter on purpose, confident of capturing her attention. What else newsworthy was going on, after all?

"Oh, yes, of course. How may I help you, Ms. Webb?"

"I was just wondering if you had time for some questions, or a quick interview?"

"Well, I was just going out for a bit…but I suppose I have time for a few questions," Meredith replied, fluffing her hair a bit with one hand. "Do you need pictures too? Oh, I'm just a mess this morning, I wasn't expecting to grant any interviews after all."

Kelsey just smiled. Both women knew that Meredith was lying through her whitened, brightened teeth. Her perfectly coordinated outfit, impeccably groomed hair and flawless makeup gave away the fiction. However, Meredith was selling a story, and Kelsey was buying, so neither cared to point out the truth.

"If you don't mind, I'll grab us a quiet table in the restaurant here. We can do the pictures afterwards?"

Meredith nodded and followed the reporter to a quiet area of the restaurant. She smirked to herself when she saw Paula and Gina gaping at her. She was certain that Paula, at least, knew exactly who she was with as she sashayed past their table.

'_See how those bitches like that_,' she thought, eager to answer anything the famous magazine's readers wanted to hear. This trip was turning out to be the best thing that had ever happened to her.

* * *

Rick thought about going to the bow of the ship. It had always been a favorite spot of his when he crewed on the _Iriata_. He loved the sound of the waves as the boat pushed through them, the salty tang of the sea spray, and the kiss of the sun on his skin as he sat to write whatever words came to him. It had been a place that was just his—the other crewmen only ventured to the bow when it was time to dock or to begin a new journey. He was alone with his thoughts—and being alone on a small ship was no easy feat.

These days, the bow had an entirely different meaning for him. No longer did he wish to be alone—he wanted to be with Kate and their family. Each wave overtaken was one tiny increment closer to her, to them. He would strain to see anything on the horizon from the bow—any sign at all that they were nearing their destination. But, he knew without going up there that they were still too far away.

Grollet had interfered in his life once again. His progress toward his family slowed inevitably by the very man who'd forced them there in the first place. There was no use going to the bow now—there would be little comfort to be sought from his former favorite spot. Instead, he went back to his cabin and lay down upon the small bed.

Once upon a time, he might have been annoyed by how small it was—his feet hung off the end, and it was far narrower than he would have preferred. Any discomfort had long been superseded by his ten years without a true mattress, followed by far less comfortable beds in the prison system. Now, his only concern about any bed he might inhabit was whether Kate would be able to join him.

'_Soon. Soon, Kate. I'm coming_.'

He knew he needed to rest. Or ought to try. The plan outlined by Loison was by turns simple and complex. It required much of Rick, and his knowledge of the sea surrounding Fenua Pari—whose real name was Tuaivi. Rick had learned all about his island when Ari'i had handed Loison the black glass square he'd brought to their meeting. It turned out to be a magical device they called a tablet. Loison had effortlessly pulled open a map program on the thing. The technology available now was mind boggling.

Ari'i had provided the name that the maps labeled their island. Tuaivi meant 'the slope of a mountain' in Tahitian. Considered to be part of the Gambier Islands, it was located south and east of the rest of the island grouping. It was amazing to see how far off course they'd been, as it was quite a way from Raivavae. Ari'i had heard of it, though never had seen it. It was isolated and considered inhospitable. He'd been shocked when he learned that it was far from barren, as most thought.

Knowing the real name of the island, Rick still couldn't bring himself to think of it as Tuaivi. He'd thought of it as Fenua Pari for so long, he couldn't bring himself to refer to it in any other fashion. It was the name he and Kate had made up, together. His home for so long, the place his children were born. The magical place that contained his future. His family. His entire happiness.

He lay quietly, reflecting on the many joys and special moments he'd witnessed while on that island. As he drifted off to sleep, he hoped that one of the greatest moments was yet to come…and that it would be occurring very, very soon.

* * *

"Did you see that two-bit floozy walk past us?" Paula sneered.

Gina nodded. "She looked pretty pleased with herself when she pranced by. Who was that with her?"

"Hmmph. That was Kelsey Webb. She freelances sometimes, but most of her stuff is for People. I'll bet you anything she's here to get dirt on Ricky for that mag."

"Well, People isn't the worst it could be. He's lucky it's not the National Enquirer."

Paula looked churlish. "Gina, ya don't really believe rags like the Enquirer would really bother to send a reporter here, do ya? They just make the shit up and print it without ever leavin' their office."

"Oh. Well, no—I guess I never really thought about it too much. Do you think we should try to keep a lid on Meredith? I mean, she doesn't strike me as one who sticks to the facts." Gina was worried. With Rick off doing whatever it was he was doing, Meredith seemed to have free rein to say anything she wished. While it was very likely to be far afield of the actual circumstances, her lies might cause some difficulties for Rick. And while she was his publisher, she was also his friend. Protection from the likes of Meredith Harper was the least she could do for him.

"Nah. Kelsey is a good reporter, as far as the entertainment ones go. She won't just publish anything without some sort of corroboration. And with Ricky off gallivanting around, doin' whatever it is he's doin', she'll have to come to us or Martha. We'll set her straight from any lies that red-haired tramp has tried to tell 'er."

Gina threw her napkin on her plate. "Let's get out of here then. My appetite has been ruined. Let's go for a walk; it looks like a nice day."

Paula agreed with alacrity. She'd been looking for a few interesting souvenirs for her boyfriend at home—something that said Tahiti, but wasn't too kitschy. She really liked Tony—maybe even loved him—and felt he needed something special.

They walked out of the hotel through a side door, avoiding the mass of reporters still hoping to capture a glimpse of Rick or his mother at the front. Picking a direction at random, Gina was happily window shopping with Paula when she heard the other woman gasp in shock. Turning to see what Paula was staring at, Gina saw the distinctive red hair of Martha Rodgers exiting a small diner just a few doors down the block.

"What is it, Paula?" Paula kept staring at the others, who were walking down the street now in the opposite direction from where they stood. Gina became more concerned something was very wrong when Paula remained quiet. In her experience, there were very few situations that rendered the woman silent. None of them likely to be good.

Glancing again at the retreating backs, she knew she recognized Martha—the woman was difficult to miss, with the red hair and…colorful…clothing. Rick's lawyer, Afaitu Tutomo, was with them. And a third man, an older gentleman with silver hair and a refined air accompanied him. She didn't recognize him.

"Is that man another reporter? Is that what's got you worried?"

Paula still stared after them, rooted to the spot. Fear flooded Gina's veins, released in an instant as Paula slowly shook her head.

"No, no. That's no reporter," she said. Gina couldn't help but notice her accent was much less apparent when she spoke softly and slowly. "That was Jim Beckett, I'm sure of it."

Gina didn't recognize the name, though it seemed familiar. When Paula remained quiet once more, she tried prompting her for more information.

"Who's Jim Beckett? If he's not a reporter, what is he doing with Martha and Rick's lawyer? What's the matter?" The last was said in a rushed fashion. Paula's reaction to the sight of the three exiting the diner was scaring her. She didn't like being scared, especially when she didn't know what to be scared about. Gina liked to be in control, and if you had control of a situation then there was nothing to be scared of.

"He's Martha Rodgers' agent. Or one of them. He and his wife have a good sized agency, and represent quite a few big names on Broadway."

"Okay. So what? Why does having her agent here make you so," she waved her hands at the other woman, "so…weird. So not…Paula." It was the best description she could think of. This quiet, contemplative person was not the Paula Haas that she knew.

"I'm just really shocked to see him here. If Martha needed her agent, which she really doesn't, I would have thought it would have been Celeste, his wife, that would come."

"Maybe this Celeste was busy. What does it matter? She's a two time Academy Award winning actress, for goodness sakes. Who knows what a person like that would require? Maybe she wanted her agent here to keep the paparazzi at bay. I don't see any reason for concern."

Paula turned to look fully at her, now that the others had disappeared from view. Concern radiated from her eyes. Gina didn't think she'd ever seen such emotion in the other woman, in all her years of dealing with her. "You don't understand. Jim Beckett is the last person anyone would expect to be here."

"Why? Is he afraid to fly? Hates beautiful islands? Allergic to coconuts? You're blowing this out of proportion, Paula."

"Gina, he's not just Martha Rodgers' manager. His daughter was Katherine Beckett."

"She…was…Katherine Beckett," Gina repeated slowly. The name was very familiar to her, though she still couldn't quite place it.

"Yes. Kate Beckett," Paula said, observing Gina closely for signs of recognition. She saw the blonde woman turn even paler when the moment finally hit.

"You mean—you mean the..," she trailed off. Paula answered for her.

"Yes. The woman who supposedly died with Ricky all those years ago. Only now, we know that Ricky is alive and well. And now Kate Beckett's dad is wandering around Tahiti with Ricky's mom and his lawyer. While Ricky has disappeared, but not before promising us an incredible story if we helped him."

Gina swiveled on her heel, nearly breaking it in her haste to be moving.

"Wait, where are you going?" Paula called after her, confused by the abrupt change in her friend.

"I have to make some calls. Right now," she yelled, striding rapidly away. Paula just stood dumbfounded, watching, until she realized she was quickly being left behind. Jogging after Gina, she wondered who in the world needed to know about their suspicions about Kate Beckett. And why they needed to know right this second.

* * *

It was late afternoon by the time Jim made it back to his hotel. After breakfast, he, Martha and Afaitu had gone over what was left of their plan once more. There was no way to know what was happening out on the water, so they just had to believe that everything was fine. Jim had never wanted to put his faith in anything or anyone more than he wanted to with Richard. Katie's life and the life of their child depended on him.

He felt a bit helpless, even though he was now much closer to the action than he had been while in New York. He and Afaitu had spent their time after leaving Martha by calling the U.S. Consulate in Fiji. Again.

Afaitu had tried dealing with them the day before. It was very frustrating, as there was no one to speak to directly. It was all too easy for faceless bureaucrats to pass the buck. However, Jim felt they'd made some progress. It was complicated by the fact that Richard wasn't present to speak for himself, and their excuses as to why he was missing for two days in a row sounded hollow even to Jim.

However, they'd caught a break. Due to Richard's celebrity status (and likely helped by Martha's fame as well), the consulate had decided to send some people over to Tahiti to deal with Richard directly. Jim and Afaitu had asked them to wait for three or four days, hoping that they would be able to actually present Richard to the consulate team. And, of course, Katie too. Though they hadn't breathed a word about her. Too soon.

Martha had left them to go shopping. Ostensibly for her and her friends back home, but Jim suspected that were he to look in her bags this evening, he might find some toys and perhaps even clothes for children. He hoped she'd been discreet; toys were easily explained. Clothing, not as easily, though he could claim it was for his grandchildren. And hope no one here knew his oldest—known—grandchild was just 3 years old. He had a feeling the clothes might be much larger than that age would merit.

He tried to relax; it was no matter at this point. Grollet was out there, looking for Katie. So were Richard and the men that they'd entrusted to this incredible saga. Nothing he and Martha did at this point from so far away would affect the outcome. At least that's what he hoped.

Lying on the bed, he dialed his house and waited for the call to be routed through all the international networks before he heard it ringing. Celeste picked up before he'd heard it ring more than two times.

"Jim?"

"Yeah, it's me. How's it going over there?"

"Ok. How was your flight?"

"Long. Uneventful. Though I got hassled a bit at the airport after I landed."

"Was it bad?"

"No, just annoying. And I'm sure my being here was tipped to Grollet immediately."

"Oh, no! What did you do?"

"Nothing. Afaitu wasn't surprised. He said there's nothing for it at this point. Plus, Grollet is already out there searching, so my being here doesn't really change that aspect of it."

"I guess that makes sense."

"How was your day?"

"I went to Martha's bank and got the copy of Richard's birth certificate. She had kept a few other papers related to his life and death in there as well, so I copied those too."

"Great." He explained their plans with the consulate team that would be arriving in Tahiti later that week. He already had copies of the same papers for Katie; he just hadn't had time to go retrieve the relevant documents from Martha's safety deposit box before his rushed trip here.

"The discussion with the media people you contacted went well. They've agreed to work with the AFP footage; they have a relationship with them from previous stories and it seems like it's all a go."

"Are they aware of the timing?"

"You mean lack thereof?" His wife's laugh tinkled across the globe and into his ear, warming his heart. She was such a rock for him. "Yes, they're aware of the constraints of the timing. To be honest, they're excited about what I was able to tell them. We're lucky it's not sweeps* month, or it might have been a different reaction."

"Maybe. Though this is going to be a huge story for them." Jim grimaced. Katie would be livid. At least the Katie he used to know. She was a very private person, and would not welcome the attention this would bring her. It was, however, entirely necessary.

"Oh, and I did have a strange call today. A woman was looking for you. She said her name was…Elaine? No, that's not right. Hang on a second—I wrote it down in the other room."

Jim wondered who was calling for him. He didn't know any Elaines, but being in the orbit of Martha Rodgers meant you were contacted quite frequently by people you didn't know. It had become almost second nature for him to rapidly determine if they were someone he needed to speak to or not.

"Ok, I'm back. Here it is. A Lanie Parrish called. She said it was urgent."

Jim felt his stomach drop. He hadn't spoken to Lanie in years…not since the trials. Though, he supposed it made sense that she'd be curious about his reaction to Richard being found alive.

His silence at the name concerned Celeste enough to prompt him further.

"Who is she?"

"She was Katie's friend, before Johanna's murder. She's the one who convinced Katie to take the trip."

"Oh. Her name sounds quite familiar to me, but I don't think I knew that detail."

"You probably recognize it from the trials. She became a medical examiner, married a cop. They were at the periphery of the investigation, but she made sure I was kept informed. Even when I was in rehab and no one but Martha seemed to think I had anything to contribute, Lanie always tried to let me know what was happening."

"Wow. And now she's certainly seen the news about Richard."

"Yes. What do you want to bet that she's now wondering about Katie?"

"I'm sure she is, Jim. It would be the natural thing to do."

"Let's just hope and pray we have good news for her, eventually."

"Do you want me to call her back? Tell her anything?"

"No. I don't think we should tip our hand early. Plus, what if something were to happen before she's safe? I can't take that risk. Lanie can find out like the rest of the world—from her TV. I just hope it's in a few days."

They hung up a few minutes later, Jim reassuring Celeste that she could fly out once Katie was safe and they had a better idea about what needed to happen next, in order to get them both back to the States. He felt a bit guilty about Lanie; she had been so kind to him in those years past. However, he felt she'd understand once she knew the stakes. His focus was his baby girl and her family. Lanie and the rest of the world would have to wait. Getting Katie and Richard to safety was the priority of everyone who loved them.

* * *

***Sweeps refers to the Nielsen ratings of TV programs in the United States. Certain months are called 'sweeps months' because the networks know those are the months that data is collected. The networks always try to have their best shows on during those times: November, February and May. **

**Hope you're all still hanging on tight. It's going to get bumpier as we count down to chapter 60!**


	55. Chapter 55: Happy 21st Birthday, Kate

**This chapter is dedicated to drsusaben. She's been involved with this story from early on. I hear from her sporadically, but I know she's still out there following along. Like me, she's involved in medicine, though of the animal variety. I completely understand how busy that can be, and am thrilled that some of her precious spare time is spent reading this fic.**

* * *

November, 2000

"My birthday?" She would have sat up in excitement, save for the giant baby that prevented her from doing anything quickly.

"Your birthday," he confirmed. He moved much faster than she could, leaning over and brushing her lips with his in a tender kiss. Resting his forehead on hers, their intimate embrace made her heart pound. How she loved this man.

"Happy birthday to the best person I've ever met." He punctuated his words with another soft kiss.

"To my love, my better half," he whispered, kissing her more deeply this time.

"The mother of my child." This kiss was demanding, and she gave in readily. She was panting slightly when he finally broke it.

"The person who makes me a better person." He moved slightly so he had better access to her mouth, kissing her senseless. She didn't object.

"I'm yours; you're mine. Together, we exceed what we can do alone." She was now past even caring about what exactly he was whispering to her. Lost in the sensations he'd created within her, desire flaring and demanding attention from him. It was time for him to stop talking and to start doing a lot more than kissing.

She trapped his head with her hands, preventing him from moving back.

"Are you sure, Kate? I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

"I _will_ be uncomfortable if you don't finish what you've started. Besides, it's my birthday."

He grinned at her, bright smile lighting up the still gloomy house as full dawn had yet to break. "You're right. I have a present for you."

"I sure hope so," she chimed, pulling him down to her and resuming her kisses and caressing of his body. Rick gave himself over to pleasing her. It was her birthday, after all.

* * *

He lay behind her, arm draped over her belly. Their baby was quiet for the moment, giving Kate a short time to doze. He wanted to tell her that he really did have a birthday present for her, but he knew better than to wake her up. She got so little rest these days—a short nap was a gift in itself.

She was now just past 31 weeks. He couldn't believe how fast it was all going. Soon they'd have their baby with them, and their lives would change yet again forever. Kate had been such a trooper through it all. He knew she was suffering heartburn, that her back was often aching, and she was more short of breath than before. She was carrying the baby all in front; he wasn't sure if that was just how the babe was positioned, or if it was because she'd been so thin going into the pregnancy.

Stroking her belly, he resolved to tempt her with small meals through the day. It should help cut down on the heartburn. There was a plant she might chew on as well, though he'd not seen any on their island.

He started to drowse off as well, thoughts full of love for his wife and unborn child. However, he was startled awake when his arm was kicked, quite hard by the baby.

Rubbing her abdomen where he'd felt the kick, he tried whispering to the baby.

"Hey there, you let your mom sleep a while longer. It's her birthday, you know. You'll have one of your own soon, and I can't wait to meet you."

Unfortunately, there seemed to be even more kicks in response to that information. Kate was soon stirring next to him. She reached down and stroked her belly as well. "Ouch."

"He's apparently awake," Rick apologized.

"I can tell. So much for sleeping in for a bit."

"I can help you up, then I'll go fix you a special breakfast," he told her.

"Sounds good to me. I've got to go empty my bladder anyway."

She shuffled off to the outhouse, while Rick busied himself in the kitchen. He had the pearls wrapped in a ti leaf, and set it down next to her plate on the table.

"What's for breakfast?"

"Sit, Kate. Please?" he begged. He wanted to make the day as special as possible.

Giving him an eye roll, she acquiesced.

"I made you an egg, just how you like it, and some fruit." He served her plate with élan, making her giggle at his dramatic movements.

Grabbing his plate, he joined her at the table. He saw her eyeing the ti leaf package.

"That's for after breakfast, Kate. Eat up."

She complied, though gave him a bit of a smirk at his commanding aura.

"I was thinking you might do better with smaller, more frequent meals. What do you think?"

"I'll try anything. The heartburn is really painful."

"So, we'll aim for around 6 light meals a day? Sound good?"

"Sure, Rick. And maybe we could try making some limeade again?"

He'd tried to make a juice of sorts from their limes, but it had been awful. It had been extremely bitter and very acidic.

"I'll leave that recipe up to you, Kate. But you like my papaya juice, right?"

"Oh, yeah. Keep making more of that."

Luckily, the papayas were fruiting like crazy. The apparently liked the volcanic soil here on the island. It was very pleasant to have more than just water or coconut juice to drink.

"You know, it's your 21st birthday. You could go out drinking, legally, in the States." He made sure he said it in a light, teasing manner. He hoped she wasn't sad she wasn't able to do anything like the normal rite of passage into adulthood. Here she was stuck on an island with him, married and expecting a baby. Not what most 21 year olds expect on their birthday.

"Yes, well it's a good thing I'm not in the States then. I can't drink while I'm pregnant, so it would be a useless privilege for me this year, anyway."

"And if you weren't pregnant? If none of this, of us, would have happened? What do you think you'd be doing?"

She was a little taken aback by his suddenly serious tone. All thoughts of teasing him went right out the window. "Rick, my father is a raging alcoholic. Do you really think I'd want to go out bar hopping on my birthday? I love the one I'm having, here with you. I wouldn't trade it for any stupid birthday I could have in the States. It would be meaningless without you."

He stared at her, thinking about what she'd explained. As her meaning sank in, he gave her a relieved smile. "You're right," he beamed, reaching for her hand, "I just feel guilty sometimes that you ended up here. You could be living a much different life out there somewhere—experiencing all the things that women your age do before they settle down."

"I have everything I need right here, with you and with our child. Besides, knowing what I suffered through before I left on the trip that led me here, do you really think I'd be out enjoying myself in the carefree manner most people have at this age? You went through all of that, to a degree even more than I would have been able to as I didn't have the millions you had to enjoy yourself with. Do you cherish those memories? Would you trade any of your time here for them, to live like that again?"

"No. You know I wouldn't."

"Well, neither would I, Rick. Never forget how much I love you. I have all that I need with you. In New York, I was a shell of a human. My father is dead to me, my mother is gone. I was an orphan with no one to love me and no one for me to love. The trip, meeting you, the shipwreck—it all changed my life, but for the better."

"So, you don't want off of the island? You'd be ok staying here?"

"No, not forever. Neither of us can pretend that we're safe here, without access to health care. That scares me. And I worry about our baby growing up here. We're the only two people he'll know. What kind of problems will that degree of isolation have on him if we're not rescued for a while? We can teach him lots of things, but when your entire world is bounded by the high cliffs of this island and the infinite view of the empty ocean, how much sense does history make?"

"You're right. I worry about books, too. They've been my life, and I can reproduce a few of them, but certainly not verbatim. Kid's books don't seem too hard—we can rhyme things together. Between the two of us, I'm sure we can remember a lot of Dr. Seuss books, for example. But I can't write out word for word classics like _Charlie and the Chocolate Factory_ or the _Wizard of Oz_."

"We'll just have to do the best we can, Rick. There's no way to change it, short of building a giant boat to get us out of here. So, please drop this silly notion that you have that I would rather spend my birthday somewhere else. You're my life, all that I need or want. You're stuck with me. If we are ever separated, for whatever reason, I'll find my way back to you. I can't imagine my life without you."

"I'd do the same, Kate. Every night, I'd look up at the stars and know that somewhere you're underneath them, looking up at the same sky that I am. I would move heaven and earth to get back to you—wherever you may be. Don't ever forget that." He leaned over the table and gave her a quick kiss to punctuate his words. Sitting back, he motioned towards the little package.

"Now, it's time to open your present."

She granted him a megawatt smile, and picked up the parcel.

"You know, I didn't get you anything for your birthday, back in April. You shouldn't have done anything for me."

"Kate, we'd just gotten married. _You_ were my gift. And what a gift you were," he trailed off, eyes glazing over as he remembered those heady days and nights after their ceremony on the beach.

"Well, if that's the kind of present you want, I'll have an easy time of it each birthday," she teased.

"That's fine with me, Kate. Seriously."

"Then I already got my present, this morning."

He laughed. His wife was certainly not materialistic. He suddenly had an image of Meredith being stranded here with him. Shuddering, he tried to wipe the image away as quickly as it'd appeared. She would have never made it—complaining incessantly, unwilling to pitch in and work hard. They would have driven each other quite mad within days, he was certain.

"What's wrong? You look upset."

Coming out of his reverie, he saw her look of concern. "Nothing, nothing at all. Just an unpleasant association."

"From this morning? What was wrong with that?" She looked very apprehensive, and he knew that he wasn't going to be able to brush this aside, much as he might want to.

"Oh, goodness, no not that, Kate. I was just reflecting on how you're not at all driven by material concerns or possessions. You agree with that, right?"

She nodded. "I was definitely more materialistic when my mom was still alive. I was a teenage girl, after all. And teenage girls live to shop. But with my mom's death, I realized that none of that mattered. The people around you matter, not the things that you have."

"Exactly. And now that we're stuck on an island where essentially everything has to be constructed by hand, it's even clearer that things, that possessions, don't hold the ultimate meaning. I'm so lucky to have you in my life, Kate. And I suddenly had this image of Meredith being here with me. She wouldn't have lasted more than a day or two. Honestly, there aren't many women who could have done what you've done. You're an amazing, remarkable woman."

"You're not so bad yourself, Rick. But now you want me to open up this present after that incredible speech? You won't think less of me if I like whatever it is you've given me?"

"No, I could never think less of you. But I didn't say we wouldn't have any possessions. It's just that Meredith valued them more than she did the person behind them. She judged the strength of someone's affection based on what they could and did buy her. You would never do that."

"No, I wouldn't."

"Which is why I wanted you to have this gift from me."

He watched as she methodically opened the leaves, finally revealing the necklace inside.

"Oh, Rick! They're beautiful. So this is what you were doing when you'd sneak away when we were visiting the beach."

He grinned at her accurate accusation. "Yep. Not all oysters have pearls, and many that do have little ones. These are the best that I've found. They match the incredible beauty that I see every time I look at you."

She smiled, eyes watering at his words. "Put it on me, please?"

He reached over and took the cord that he'd attached them to and looped it over her neck. Not having any kind of equipment that would allow him to drill through a pearl without breaking it, he'd instead crafted tiny nets to house each one, then attached the individual net to the cord.

"When we're rescued, I'll have them strung into a proper necklace," he declared, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. "Until then, this is the best I can do."

"I think it's a magnificent gift, Rick. But it pales in comparison to what you've already given me."

"I wanted a gift fit for a queen for the woman who rules my heart and soul."

These words set the tone for the rest of their day, as he tried to spoil her—as much as was possible on a desert island where they still had to fight, to a degree, for their very survival.

That night, as he massaged her back and legs, she raised her head sleepily from the pillow. "This was such a perfect day, Rick. Thank you for everything." She collapsed down onto the pillow, asleep nearly before her head even touched it again. As he gently placed her leg back down, he prayed once more that nothing would go wrong with the remaining weeks of her pregnancy and the delivery.

* * *

December, 2000

Kate was in the orchard when she first felt it. A pain in her abdomen that was not related to the baby kicking or moving around. She'd been picking fruit, and while she'd promised not to stretch up too high or bend down to get weeds, she might have bent the rules slightly when she saw an especially ripe fruit just out of normal reach.

She was mostly done with the chore when the pain came. Dropping the full basket, she clutched her belly. The pain trailed off after a minute or so, and she breathed a sigh of relief. At only 34 weeks, it wasn't time to deliver yet. She retrieved the basket and had almost convinced herself that it had all been a simple overreaction when another pain hit.

This time she dropped the basket and grabbed a nearby branch. This was not good. Rick was somewhere nearby, she just didn't know where. Deciding this was the kind of situation that merited help, she grabbed the whistle around her neck and gave it a few sharp blows. Then she waited, concentrating on breathing evenly and staving off the panic that threatened to overwhelm her.

"Kate? Kate? Where are you?"

Not feeling up to yelling, she blew on her whistle again.

"Kate?" He was much closer now. She could hear the fear in his voice as he yelled for her.

"I'm here, Rick. Right here."

He burst into the orchard, coming to an abrupt halt at the sight of her clutching the tree for support.

"What's the matter? Is something wrong?"

She grimaced, then reached for his hands after he extended them to her.

"I've had two sudden pains in my abdomen. It's too early for labor, right?" She was desperate for him to agree with her.

"It might not be anything. Might just be false labor pains. They're pretty common in the last trimester. C'mon, let's get you back to the house."

He assisted her back to the house and insisted that she lay down for a while. She fell asleep, and when she woke up, he was sitting next to her on the bed. Judging by the light, it was late afternoon.

"Hey there, sleepyhead."

She just smiled at him. "How long have you been watching me?"

"Not long. Maybe twenty minutes. You're pretty adorable when you're sleeping, you know it?"

"Don't you have better things to do than sit and stare at me?"

"Nope. Not when it comes to my wife."

"It's kind of weird, Rick."

"Well, after the fright you gave me today, I think I'm entitled to a little weird, don't you think?"

"When you put it that way, I suppose so."

"How're you feeling?"

She considered the question for a minute. "Fine. No more pains at all."

"I'll bet they were just non-labor contractions. I can't remember the name of them that Hina told me, but she said sometimes you can make them go away simply by peeing, or making sure you're hydrated."

"Seems counterproductive."

"Yeah, well, not everything that she taught me always made sense. I'm just a man, after all."

"I won't even touch that one," she smirked.

"I brought you dinner, my lady."

"In the house? In bed?"

He nodded, eager to please.

"Do you mind if we don't?" His face fell. "Rick, it's not that I don't appreciate it. I do. But, I've been lying here for hours, and I'm sore. I want to get up and walk around. I want to walk with you."

That was enough for him to agree to moving the meal back to the kitchen.

"Do you know what day it is today, Kate?"

"Some day in early December. Oh, wait," she exclaimed, looking up at him. "Is it…"

He nodded, too excited to let her finish. "Yes. Exactly one year ago today we landed with the rickety raft cobbled together from odds and ends, and packed to the brim with whatever we could find and 28 chickens to start a new life on this island."

"Things sure have changed in that one year," she mused. "We now have over 60 chickens, and look at how _we've_ changed."

"It is amazing. I had no idea when we first met in Papeete that you'd play such a huge role in my life. Thank goodness for all the small events that coalesced into where we are today."

She smiled at him; they had much to be thankful for, not the least was the fact that they'd found such love under incredibly taxing circumstances.

* * *

Christmas loomed rapidly. This year, Kate wasn't paralyzed by the grief that she'd been under during the same time the prior year. In fact, Rick could tell she seemed to be hiding something from him. She thought she was being all sneaky, but he kept such close tabs on her these days, she couldn't really get away with much.

Rick did most of the decorating again. Kate was exhausted most of the time, anymore. She couldn't sleep at night for more than a few hours, and she was having an even harder time catching her breath. At 36 weeks, she was nearly all baby in the front. Rick marveled at the sight, though sometimes he found himself panicking when he thought about what could go wrong during the delivery.

They'd not made any more trips to the ocean, so he'd not found any more pearls for her. Instead, he'd concentrated on practical gifts. Much of it baby related.

Christmas day dawned hot and humid. Not the best weather for Kate. November had brought back the rainy season, and they'd both been more than thrilled to be spending all of it snug under a thatched roof and not flimsy plastic tarps.

He decided to let her sleep in. This year, he'd put the conical Christmas tree back together, but located it in the house. He was planning to keep Kate under the roof all day, as it looked like it would storm. He'd festooned the walls with flowering vines, and even tied some green leaves together and called it mistletoe in an area near their bed. He'd 'caught' her there as often as she'd let him.

He jogged the few steps to the kitchen and set about making breakfast. Finished in twenty minutes, he loaded it all on a tray and wended his way back to her. She was still sleeping, so he sat the tray down and tiptoed to the shelf where he'd hidden her gifts. He'd wrapped them the night before, after she'd gone to bed. Placing them around the 'tree', he was quite pleased with the festive appearance.

"Rick?"

Turning, he saw her slowly trying to sit up. He raced to her side to help pull her into a sitting position.

"Thanks," she grunted. She took a minute to recover, then held her hands up in front of her again. "Help me up?"

Complying, he whispered, "Merry Christmas, Kate," as he stole a kiss from her.

"Merry Christmas to you too, Rick," she replied.

"I have breakfast for you all ready," he stated, motioning towards the table.

"Can we go use the outhouse first? I swear this kid is going to be a kidney specialist, as much as he wants to see me pee."

Rick nodded, already guiding her out the door and over to the pathway to the bathroom. He followed her now, worried that she'd slip and fall on the pathway. It was slick after rain, which they often had now both day and night. Kate hated that he felt that he had to follow her around, but after her fall that night weeks ago, she'd not been able to convince him to leave her alone.

When they returned to the house, he made her sit down and eat first. He was also very aware of how much liquid she'd been drinking; dehydration would complicate things. Finally, he worried every single day about fluid retention and headaches: these might herald the onset of a complication that Hina had worried about, especially in a first time mother. Unchecked, it could lead to seizures and even death in the worst cases. The treatment was to lower the mother's blood pressure, and deliver the baby if it couldn't be controlled. Unfortunately, they had few options available to them. Thus, he comforted himself by checking her obsessively for any signs.

So far, so good. She had no signs of anything complicating the pregnancy so far; even the false labor pains had disappeared as quickly as they'd come on.

"Can we open our presents now?" she begged. Rick nearly laughed out loud, thinking about how different this year was compared to last year.

"Yes, Miss Impatient. We can open them now."

They settled on the couch, Rick ensuring her legs were elevated. Normally she would loathe his nearly overbearing attention. However, she was exhausted and sick of being pregnant. Her body was no longer hers to control; she had to have help doing even simple tasks. And he was so eager to help, to make her more comfortable. She couldn't take that from him.

Rick opened her gifts first. She'd knitted him some protective chap-like pants, for when he went foraging through untamed jungle. She'd also woven him a couple different hats for various occasions.

"Thank you, dearest," he grinned, already putting one of the hats on his head.

"My turn!" she exclaimed.

She oohed and aahed over the pretty shells he'd found to give her. However, her face absolutely lit up when she saw the glider he'd built for her.

"Rick, this must have taken forever to do."

"It was a bit hard to figure out, but once I did, it went together smoothly. I can't wait to see you rocking our baby in it."

They then spent some time deciding where to put the crib he'd put together and the glider. Kate wanted them near the bed, and Rick moved them several times before she was content with the locations.

He then moved an empty bookcase to the grouping, and she placed the clothing and other items they'd made. Everything was ready. Now they just needed the baby to decide it was time to make an appearance.

* * *

**I'll put some pics of bamboo cribs on tumblr. **

**Thanks for your continued support, and would love to hear your thoughts about the story so far.**


	56. Chapter 56: Highway to Hell

**This chapter is dedicated to Evan Petruzzi (her twitter handle; I have no idea what her ffnet userid is, or if she even has one). Evan has been very excited about Surviving Paradise and tweets me her thoughts about chapters or upcoming teases. She is a very talented singer/songwriter. I've enjoyed listening to her stuff on Spotify, and definitely love exchanging tweets!**

* * *

April, 2010

"They are ten minutes out, Capitaine."

Tissot sighed. "Maintain our heading. Steady at current speed," he ordered. The men obeyed with alacrity, hoping everything would go smoothly.

Once he was satisfied with their course, Tissot turned to his radio operator. "Contact the helicopter and let them know our position."

"Yes, sir."

Turning back to the wide view of the sea from his bridge, Tissot hoped this would all soon be over. His orders from the naval base had been to continue to pursue the two cargo boats, and to prepare for the arrival of President Grollet and some of his staff. Unfortunately, these two orders had proven to be mutually exclusive.

The intimation had been that the cargo ships were on their way to the old site of the shipwreck with Richard Rodgers. Tissot theorized that Grollet wanted to be part of the photo op…there was no reason he could think of that would lead a President out onto the high seas like this. It was all quite strange.

He'd followed his orders to a T, staying just out of sight of the cargo boats, but keeping a close eye on them through radar. He knew they'd come very close to each other the previous night, and some tenders had gone back and forth. Now they were both once again headed east; the _Vaitiare_ a bit south of the _Oriata_.

They were headed directly for the Tuamotu/Gambier island groups. The Tuamotus were coral atolls; not many were inhabited, but some were. The famous black pearls of Tahiti were cultured in these atolls. The Gambiers were further south, and were composed of the remnants of old volcanos, and were considered high islands. He thought it made sense for one of the uninhabited islands to have been the site of Rodgers' home for so long.

However, he'd lost radar contact with the two cargo ships. He'd been forced to veer off course to satisfy the second half of his orders: to welcome Grollet on board. Tissot and his crew had a much faster ship than the two cargo carriers, so he hoped he'd easily be able to pick them up again. First, he'd had to detour into chopper range so that Grollet could come aboard. This was not a trivial matter in the wide open space of the Southern Pacific, and they were now several hours away from the last position of the cargo ships. They'd be lucky to find them again before nightfall.

The way he figured it, if they lost them, so be it. Neither ship had been suspected of anything illegal, as far as he knew. This all smacked of the hubris of Grollet wanting in on an historic moment. And for that, Stephane didn't give the proverbial ass _d'un rat_.

* * *

Kelsey Webb was in a bind. She'd spent the morning interviewing Meredith Harper. It had been an…interesting …conversation, to say the least. First of all, Meredith loved to talk about herself, so in that sense it had been easy. However, what she had to say didn't necessarily match up with what Kelsey had heard from other people.

Meredith had gushed over Rick Castle. They had been in an established relationship back in 1997. There were pictures and interviews that proved that point. Despite Ms. Harper's claims that things had still been going strong between them at the time of Mr. Castle's disappearance, Kelsey had her doubts.

Her research partner in the States claimed that Rick had basically left the U.S. in the year 1998, ostensibly to research a new character for a series of books—only one of which had been published, posthumously. Yet, he'd remained in the South Pacific long after that—in fact about a year—before his disappearance. Kelsey could find no record of Meredith visiting him; in fact, there were traceable records of her working on films and TV during that time.

Confronted with this, Meredith had brushed it off. Kelsey's trained eye had detected no signs of dissembling, but the woman _was_ an actress. That was when Meredith had pulled out the ring.

Claiming they'd actually been engaged before his disappearance, Kelsey had been stunned. And thrilled. No one in the entire world had been reporting this kind of information, and there was a white hot interest in all things Castle right now. She couldn't believe she was going to get to be the one to break it.

Later, after the initial rush of excitement had faded, she read back through the notes she'd taken. It was long on Meredith said this and Meredith said that, but short on anyone else. That's when Kelsey started to get a quiver of anxiety that her interviewee _might_ not have told her the entire truth. It was a teeny quiver, but still noticeable.

She called in her bits of the story so far, to run it past her editors. They were ecstatic at what she'd found, but also cautious. There is no worse feeling in the news biz than to publish something electrifying, only to have the truth blow it out of the water. Even in the entertainment world, which sometimes played loose with the veracity of its sources, verifying a story like this was required.

The man of the hour, Richard Castle, was missing. Which made her nose twitch harder. If he'd been gone from a fiancée for ten years, wouldn't he want to spend all of his time with her?

Yet, aside from the press conference a few days ago, no one had even seen Richard Castle in the same room as Meredith Harper. And it wasn't due to the couple reuniting in privacy, as Ms. Harper made it a point to be seen several times a day by the press corp. Sans her purported fiancé. It was decidedly odd.

Thus, Kelsey had sought out Paula Haas just after lunch. They'd known each other superficially for years—Paula represented several famous authors, though none bigger than Rick Castle.

In all the years that she'd known her, Kelsey had never seen Paula in a state like today. Distracted, edgy, not even paying attention to much that Kelsey asked. She had the feeling that if she'd asked Paula to confirm that Rick Castle was slated to run for President in the fall that the woman would have said yes.

Kelsey hadn't gotten an answer to the questions she'd come with. However, she'd been handed a new set of questions, when Gina Powell had wandered into the room she'd met Paula in. Kelsey had been about to leave, so was at the door, when Gina entered the room reading from a tablet. Neither woman had paid any attention to the reporter, who slowed her exit markedly when she heard Gina reading out loud.

"It says here she went on a vacation of sorts in late 1999, ending up somehow in Tahiti. She booked passage on the boat that Rick was working on. She was presumed lost at sea the same time he was."

"Wasn't there some sort of scandal about her dad?" Paula queried.

"Well, he was a drunk, though obviously he turned it all around at some point. You don't get to his position without being on top of your game. But all the publicity from her disappearance brought her mother's murder into the spotlight."

"Yeah, yeah, I remember now. It was a huge deal, at the time."

"Yep. Eclipsed only by 9/11, but by that time all the trials were essentially over."

"Huh. Sure makes you wonder what Jim Beckett is doing here in Tahiti, don't it?"

That had been enough for Kelsey. She'd raced back to her hotel and contacted her assistant immediately. They'd spent the next few hours burning up the line between Papeete and New York.

Now, she had even more questions without answers. And still no sign of Rick Castle to answer them. However, she wanted to put to rest some of the most egregious statements made by Meredith that morning. With that in mind, she made yet another phone call.

* * *

"Hopo, it's time," cried Tamahere as he pounded on his door.

Rick vaulted up. He'd fallen into a restless sleep, and the adrenaline of what was about to happen made him feel like he was jump out of his skin.

"Coming," he responded. He grabbed his bag, checking it for the thousandth time. Nothing had moved; it was all still there. He imagined the scene when he saw her again, and tears threatened to overwhelm him. They were so close.

He tore off his shipboard clothes and donned the skintight outfit he'd been given by Laurent. It was made of a material that was lightweight, but warm. He was going to need it, despite the hot, humid air that bathed the South Pacific normally.

Leaving his cabin for the last time, he made sure once more he wasn't leaving anything behind. If all went well, he might not even see this boat again.

He picked his way forward. Ari'i and Tamahere were standing in the bow. The captain was dressed traditionally, though Tamahere was wearing clothes that matched Rick's. The three men from the AFP and Salesi were standing to a side next to a large Zodiac that was ready to be winched overboard. They were also all wearing the same type of suit that Rick had donned.

Ari'i had a crewman with a ukulele, who was already playing a song that Ari'i and Tamahere sang to. Rick recognized it from his time aboard the _Iriata_—it was a song for Ari'i's taua, or guardian spirit. In Ari'i's case a tohora, or whale.

It was just before sunset, and the sky appeared to be on fire. It was one of the most beautiful sunsets Rick had ever seen. His fervent prayer was that it would be the last sunset he saw without Kate.

Shouts from some of the other crewmen alerted him to look out to the eastern horizon. They were stopped just west of the Gambiers, some good 8 hours by Zodiac to Fenua Pari, or Tuaivi if you wanted to be technical.

They had planned to launch the Zodiac around this time, and the _Vaitiare_ would head in another direction. However, Loison hadn't had a good plan to evade the radar of the French vessels. He was worried that they would be spotted and tracked no matter what they did. That's when Ari'i stepped in and said it wouldn't be a problem.

Rick had noticed the reporters' skeptical looks. He didn't share them. He'd seen too much in his months with the Polynesian crew to doubt what they claimed. If Ari'i stated it wasn't a problem, then it wouldn't be a problem. And here he had proof of his claims.

"Launch the boat," he heard from the captain. A sizzle of pure energy bolted through him. To calm himself, he looked up into the darkening sky.

"I'm coming, Kate. I'm coming."

* * *

Martha had decided to meet Jim for dinner, though her hotel would not do for them. Not with her watchers all over the place. Not to mention reporters.

Afaitu had claimed fatigue and begged off. Martha realized it was probably more than mere fatigue. Tonight was the night that Richard was scheduled to get into the Zodiac and somehow elude the French navy while he sped toward Katie.

It was a terrifying prospect, and their inability to receive any communications from the crew of the Zodiac or the _Vaitiare_ made it even worse. No, she was certain Afaitu was not merely fatigued. The pressure the man had been under to get all of this off the ground was unbelievable. He deserved a night to rest and worry alone.

She and Jim had agreed to meet at his hotel restaurant. It was much quieter, and he'd not seen any signs of men observing him. That didn't mean there weren't any, but they weren't obvious about it.

He stood to greet her when she arrived.

"Martha, you're looking as lovely as always."

"Oh, Jim, I'm sure I'm a fright. Tonight at least." She kissed his cheek and allowed him to seat her.

The wait staff was quite discreet, which suited the two of them perfectly. She felt safe discussing things about their children here.

"I wonder how it's going?" she sighed.

"I'm sure it's fine. We have to trust in Richard. He'll find her."

"You're right, I know my son is a very capable man. That comes through in the things he's written about so far. I would have never guessed that he could do such things. But how are you doing, Jim? This has got to be harder on you, not knowing how she is, if she's safe."

"It is, but I just have to have faith that it'll all work out. You've read the way he writes about her. Theirs is a relationship that has stood the test of time. It reads like a love story for the ages. I guess the romantic in me is certain they'll get their happy ending. The father in me is still worried, of course. But Richard won't rest until he finds her."

Martha nodded, then was distracted by the arrival of their meals. They made some small talk as they ate, neither wanting to dwell on the inexorable worry that could grind them down if allowed free rein.

Just as they were finishing up their last bites, Jim's cell rang.

"It's Celeste. Excuse me for a minute, Martha."

"Oh, don't worry, darling. Tell her 'Hi' for me."

Jim stepped away a few feet to greet his wife. Martha could tell he was a bit surprised by whatever she had to say, as his voice rose just enough that she could hear what he was saying.

"She what?" He started pacing.

"What did you tell her?"

"No, that's fine. Clearly it's not as covert as we'd hoped." He was running one hand through his hair, which Martha knew was a sure sign of distress in her manager. She was becoming quite alarmed at the little bit of the conversation she could hear.

"Ok, give them the directions. But warn them, no one else. I won't accept anyone besides them."

His voice dropped again, as he made his goodbyes. Hanging up, he gave Martha an inscrutable look.

"We need to leave. Let's pay and go up to my room."

"What is it, Jim? What's wrong?"

"Not here, Martha. Wait until we get to my room."

They paid, and she accompanied him on trembling legs to his room. It was a standard hotel room, much smaller than her suite. However, the small size of the room turned out to be a blessing when he put a finger to his lips after they walked in the door.

Remaining silent, he strode to the safe and removed an electronic device. Switching it on, he swept the entire room in a manner of minutes, carefully examining every nook and cranny with it. Finally satisfied, he shut it off and motioned for her to take a seat on the bed.

"Sorry about that; Afaitu told me to bring some equipment to sweep for bugs. I haven't found any, but I know they've been listening to your room. They don't seem to care about me as much."

"Probably because Grollet is too busy following Richard. Now, tell me what on earth you heard from Celeste that upset you so much?"

His mouth twisted into a grimace. "It was certainly not good news. She was contacted today by People magazine. They wanted to 'discuss' Richard's rescue with me and how it might impact me in terms of Katie's disappearance and presumed death. She said they actually used the word 'presumed'!"

"Goodness, Jim. Do you think they know something?"

"I'm not sure, but it gets worse. She said that their reporter here, Kelsey Webb, had uncovered some information about Katie, and they wanted confirmation. However, since they couldn't find me, they tried a different source."

"Well, they certainly didn't call me! Who on earth did they speak with?"

Jim opened his mouth to answer when a loud rap on the door interrupted him. Crossing to the door, he peered through the peephole to confirm the identity of the visitor, then opened the door.

Martha was shocked to see Paula and Gina shove Meredith into the room. The red head looked as though she were outraged. Her skin was splotchy red in places, and Martha would have hazarded an Oscar that the woman's blood pressure was well past normal. She'd never seen her in such a state, even when Meredith and Richard were at their worst before their breakup.

Jim closed the door quickly behind the three women, then walked around them to move closer to his friend. Martha could see that both Paula and Gina looked curious, but neither was enraged, unlike Meredith. Dismissing them in her head, she looked back at the woman, who appeared ready to spit nails. Taking her cue from Jim, she just waited. Meredith had come to them; she would need to be the one to speak.

"Are you Jim Beckett, Martha's agent?" Meredith snarled.

Jim nodded. "Yes. And you're Meredith Harper?"

Meredith ignored his question. She turned her attention to Martha next. At first she just stared at her. The animosity in her gaze was disconcerting. Martha would never have imagined that the woman was capable of such ire. She'd always been so self-centered; Martha had never thought she'd ever be able to get this worked up about something.

The tension built, as no one made any sounds. Finally, Meredith could take it no longer. Her coiled body exploded into motion as she darted to Martha's side and seized her shoulders in an iron grip.

"Where is Katherine Beckett?" she snapped. "I _know_ Rick is with her. Where the hell are they?"

* * *

Tissot and his crew stood at attention as the helicopter door opened and disgorged Grollet and his aide.

"Welcome aboard, sir. It's an honor to have you here."

"Thank you, Capitaine. I'm grateful you were able to help me out. Please, lead the way."

Stephane led them to the quarterdeck, intending to show them to their cabins.

"If you don't mind, Capitaine, we'd like to look over the progress you've made in tracking the ships."

Surprised, Tissot could only nod. "Then you'll allow one of my crewmen to take your bags to your quarters?"

"Certainly, certainly."

Tissot gestured for one of the waiting _matelots_, or seamen, to take the bags of Grollet and his aide, whom he'd introduced as Tane. He then took them to the bridge, to hear the results of the search.

"We found the cargo ship _Vaitiare_ without any problem shortly after beginning the hunt for her. She initially was sailing due east, but then abruptly turned east-south-east," recited his best _aspirant_, or mid-shipman.

"Hmm, that is a bit odd, is it not?" mused Grollet.

"Well, perhaps, but after sailing about 12 hours she met up with another cargo boat, the _Oriata_. They exchanged some tenders, then departed each other after about 90 minutes."

"They exchanged tenders?" Grollet appeared alarmed. Any way of knowing if they exchanged any crewmen?"

"Not for certain, monsieur."

Grollet glanced at Tane, though it was so brief that Tissot doubted anyone else even noticed. "I suppose I would like to hear about what they did next."

"Well, the _Oriata_ is headed east-north-east, toward the middle of the Tuamotu chain. The _Vaitiare_, on the other hand, has maintained a mostly eastern course. She is south of the _Oriata_, and appears to be going to the Gambiers."

"Gentleman, I have reason to believe that Rick Rodgers is headed back to the site of the shipwreck that changed all of our lives so long ago. He wouldn't tell me the location, as he is afraid he can't remember, and doesn't want to embarrass me. I, however, would like nothing more than to surprise him there. You men are going to help me do just that," he exclaimed, eliciting broad smiles from all the crew save for Tissot.

He couldn't help but wonder at the lengths Grollet was going to in order to surprise one man. Essentially subverting a naval ship did not speak of a mere wish to astonish another. No, there was something else going on. Stephane would still bet it was something to do with the press. Most politicians wouldn't tie a child's shoe unless they were guaranteed a positive report appearing in the paper.

Shortly after agreeing to seek out the _Vaitiare_, they were on an intercept course for the slower cargo ship.

"Monsieur President, it will be several hours before we would be near them. I suggest some rest and relaxation from your long day."

Grollet agreed, and left Tissot to his bridge and crew. It was a relief to have it back under his nominal command once again.

It was sunset before they finally found them. The _Vaitiare_ had made better time than they'd imagined, but was still headed east.

Grollet and his aide had rejoined him after dinner. This did not help Stephane's digestion whatsoever.

"They are still headed east. This would put them near Mangareva, would it not?" Grollet asked.

"_Oui_, monsieur. Although they might alter course once they are closer."

"Capitaine, Capitaine, I have a problem," interrupted the radar technician.

"What is it?"

"There are multiple signals around the _Vaitiare_. She is not alone, sir."

"What? How can that be?"

The entire group gathered around the radar to see for themselves.

"Can you determine what kind of boats make those signals?" Tissot asked. He noticed that Grollet looked very pale.

"No, sir."

Tissot grabbed the key to his radio and asked for a visual report from the top deck.

"We cannot see anything sir. We're still too far away."

"_Merde_," came a whisper from behind him. When he turned to glare at whoever had muttered the expletive, he saw it must have come from Tane, who he had no authority over. Deciding to ignore it, Tissot ordered full engines ahead.

"We'll be in visual range in twenty minutes, sir."

Glancing at the clock, he wanted to swear as well. It would be full dark by then.

Suddenly, the radar operator sat up in his seat. "Sir, I know what they are," he exclaimed, hands clasped to his headphones. "Yes, I know exactly what has happened." He partially turned, taking off the headphones so he could speak directly to the men surrounding him. "It is a pod of whales, sir. The headphones are full of their song."

"Whales? What are they doing?" Grollet fretted.

Tissot smiled, then ordered the engines to throttle back. He wasn't going to waste fuel chasing after a pod of whales.

"Monsieur President, it is not an uncommon occurrence out here. Humpback whales calve in these waters in October, but there are other species here year round. We've even had large pods of orcas come through. It is nothing to be concerned about; in fact, most see the whales as a sign of good luck."

"Ah, well that is indeed reassuring to hear, Capitaine. I bow to your superior knowledge of the sea," Grollet condescended, making Tissot grit his teeth even harder than he normally had to. He couldn't wait for this assignment to be finished.

"Now, if you'll accompany me to the salon, I would appreciate an after dinner drink if it's not too much trouble," Grollet simpered. Tissot was led unwillingly away, after ensuring that the ship was under the control of his second in command.

He didn't notice Tane lingering behind. And when the man started taking pictures of the radar, then of the navigational maps they'd been using to plot the _Vaitiare's_ course, no one from the crew said anything. They all assumed that the man who was a top aide for the President of French Polynesia had carte blanche to do whatever he wanted, as long as it didn't interfere in running the ship.

* * *

**What do you guys think? **


	57. Chapter 57: Auld Lang Syne

**This chapter is dedicated to my parents. They're visiting me right now, which is a rather rare event. They amaze me at how hard they both still work. My yard looks much better, though my writing time has been nearly non-existent during this week of staycation. Not what I'd planned for, but that's life.**

* * *

December, 2000

"What I wouldn't give for a juicy steak right now. Or ice cream."

"What kind of ice cream, Kate?"

"Does it matter? I can't get any."

"I'm just curious. I'll file it in my '_Facts about Katherine Rodgers_' booklet, right up here," he smiled, pointing to his head.

"Well, right now I want chocolate anything, but my very favorite is a well-made vanilla."

"What?" He turned to see if she were serious. They were sitting in the lake, in just far enough to sit with their chests out of the water. It was late afternoon, and Kate had become more and more miserable now that she was past 37 weeks. Hot all the time, back aching constantly from the position of the baby—being in the water was like nirvana. It helped support the baby—so her back felt better—and it was cooling.

"Yes, Rick. Vanilla. Deal with it."

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, speechless. "I—I suppose if you put some awesome toppings on it, then…"

"Nope. Nothing more than maybe a little chocolate sauce and some nuts. It's the flavor of the vanilla that's important, and if you bury it under a mound of toppings, it defeats the whole purpose of making it vanilla."

"I sure hope our children don't inherit your taste in food," he mumbled. Not softly enough. Pregnancy had turned her ears into bionic super-hearers, at least when it came to stupid things he said out loud.

"Exactly what's wrong with my taste in food?"

"Nothi—why, nothing, sweetie pie. Here, let me rub your back." Moving behind her, he started massaging her lower back before she'd had a chance to even sputter.

"Mmmmm, that feels so good. You're lucky that I appreciate you for all the things that you can do so well."

He leaned forward, whispering seductively into her ear, "This is the least of my talents, Mrs. Rodgers. I'm really, really good at something very different from back rubs."

"Oh, really? And does that specialty involve me?"

"Definitively."

"Does it, perchance, involve your mouth?"

"Assuredly." His voice got lower with each word, and he'd forgotten to keep up the massage. He was, however, tracing figures absently on her skin.

"Does it, possibly, involve your tongue?"

"Unquestionably."

"Then I would have to agree; you're very, very good at that skill."

"Just very good?"

"I would say you're probably an expert, by now."

"Expert, eh?" She could almost hear him puffing out his chest behind her.

"Yes, an expert. I didn't say that was a good thing, though, did I?"

"Wha—What? Not a good thing?"

She half turned—much easier to do with the buoyancy of the water assisting her. "No, it's not a good thing. Why would you think that it was?"

"Well, I—I always thought—Kate! You've always enjoyed…"

"Enjoyed? Your annoying jabber? Not always, Rick."

He let out a shrill shriek when she splashed some water up on his chest. She couldn't resist: he'd made quite the portrait, with his mouth hanging open, staring at her in consternation. "Gotcha, Rick."

It was her turn to shriek when he splashed her back, then it was an all-out war. A few minutes into it, he had captured her hands.

"I'll show you what I can do with my mouth and my tongue, Mrs. Rodgers," he smirked, drawing her to him like a moth to a flame. When he looked at her like that, with that hunger in his eyes that was all just for her, she had no defense.

Thank goodness that water made many aspects of her otherwise ungainly pregnant body much, much less awkward. And, she had to admit, he was extremely talented with his mouth, tongue, and many other body parts.

* * *

New Year's Eve, 2000 dawned warm and humid—like nearly every other day of the month of December. Kate had been up and down all night, pacing in turn with sitting on one of the chairs. Her legs were cramping at times, so Rick insisted that she eat more bananas than she wanted to imagine, as well as drinking what seemed like her weight in water.

She didn't protest, per se. The cramps were unpleasant, even with the frequent massages that they garnered from her husband. However, drinking that much water meant she had to pee constantly.

The pressure on her bladder seemed much worse. A few days after Christmas, she felt like a bowling ball had taken root in her pelvis. Rick said he thought it meant that the baby had dropped. She supposed it was a good thing—the delivery was imminent. And, it meant she had a little more room to breathe, which was very nice.

However, it was frightening to contemplate that she could go into labor at any moment. She was very nervous about it. And, the baby's head sitting deep in her pelvis meant that there was almost no position that was comfortable for more than a half hour, max. The only modicum of relief was being in the water.

She might have spent all of her time there, except that Rick wanted her to do some exercises to prepare for the delivery. Most of it was stretching; he even had her doing a stretching massage of her perineum. It was something Hina had stressed to him, in order to cut down on rips or tears. And without any real medical care nearby, she was all for anything that would make delivery less complicated. Especially when she considered the size of Rick's noggin. The man had a big head.

"Morning, Kate."

"Hmmph," was her only response. He'd just awakened from a nice, refreshing night's sleep. Well, except when she'd made him get up twice to give her legs another rub. But, still. No one had the right to be this perky in the morning.

He walked over and gave her a kiss, which she did allow. She loved kissing him; it always made her feel better. Her mood lightened noticeably.

"Can you believe it's the last day of the year 2000?"

"No, it's gone by really slowly and really fast, at the same time."

"Yeah, I agree. We've accomplished so much. In the real world I'm not sure I would ever have been this productive."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I met the woman of my dreams, married her, built a house together and furnished it, got her pregnant, and will welcome my first baby any day now. I'd say that's a pretty productive year."

Kate just laughed. "Last year, we were huddled under a tarp with rain pelting down on us while the New Year came into being. Remember how we wondered about Y2K?"

"Yeah. We still don't know if anything happened with that. I mean, they were predicting all kinds of disasters, even when I was still living in New York."

"Guess we won't know until we're rescued. But, do you think you'll be as productive in the year 2001?"

"Probably not. I don't need to build another house. And we'll be too busy with the baby to do much else. But, I have a feeling it's going to be a great year."

"I think you're right, Rick. Now, how about you make yourself productive and go fix my breakfast?"

"As my lady commands," he bowed, sweeping one arm out in an elegant gesture of acquiescence.

Kate settled into one of the living room chairs to wait for her meal. Eating small amounts through the day had helped her heartburn. It wasn't gone, but she could live with it now.

She felt the baby stretching. He—or she—no longer spent most of the day trying to punch his way out of the womb. Kate supposed that there was too little room left to properly kick. She just couldn't imagine how cramped it must be—she felt like there was no possible way she could grow bigger without popping.

Smiling as she imagined what the baby would look like, she turned her attention back to her husband as he bound through the door carrying two plates.

"What are you smiling about, love?"

"Just imagining getting to meet Alex or Sarah soon."

"Ah. I can't wait, either. I know you'll be happy to be able to breathe properly again."

"And see my feet. No more back pain. Able to sleep through the night."

Rick gave her a shocked glance. "Umm, you do know a little about babies, right?"

"I told you, I know very little. Why?"

"Well, ummm. You see, babies need to eat." He was looking at her very earnestly.

"Not a surprise, Rick. My breasts have been leaking for a week now. I know how babies are fed."

"Yeah, well, about that…do you know how often they eat?"

Surprised at the question, she thought for a minute. She had heard they ate often, but she didn't really know the details. "I'm guessing by the way you're acting all nervous it's more than 4 or 5 times a day? I'll say 6 times a day? That'd be every 4 hours or so. Which doesn't sound great, but I'm sure it gets better with time."

"Well….that's true. Eventually."

He looked a bit pale to her, and he wouldn't look her in the eye. That alone told her she still didn't have it right.

"Rick…you're not telling me something. It's more than 6, isn't it? Just tell me!"

"Ahh, well, Kate. Keep in mind that every baby is different. So, who knows? But, most newborns eat every 2 to 3 hours."

She felt faint. That would leave almost no time for sleep. "Around the clock?" she squeaked. His slow nod confirmed it. "And it'll be all up to me. I'm never gonna sleep again, am I? Boy, do you men ever have it easy." There was a slightly bitter twist to her words. It just didn't seem fair.

"Kate, I'll do everything I can to help. You know I will. I wish with all my heart I could take some of this burden off of you, but I can't. And honestly, I'm a little jealous."

"Of what, exactly? The fact that I'm in near constant pain here at the end, only to have to push something the size of a melon out of me? Or the fact that I'll be up all hours of the day to feed the kid? What exactly is there to be jealous of?"

He reached over and took her hand, trying to get her to feel his sincerity through touch and hearing as well as it pouring out of his eyes. "Kate, you've had a special bond with our child for nearly 9 months. You've given it a place to grow, provided nourishment and kept it safe. You've felt it move and thrive inside you, which is something completely amazing that I'll never be able to experience. Then, after giving it life, you'll be the only one of the two of us that can feed it. It's a type of bond I'll simply never have, not while we live alone on this island. So, I'll do anything and everything that I can to help, but you will be by far the most important person of the two of us to our baby. And, honestly, I'm envious of that."

She'd had a lump in her throat as he spoke, then felt the tears well up in her eyes. They rolled silently down her cheeks as he finished, and she didn't bother wiping them away.

"You must think I'm the most selfish person in the world," she declared, more tears overwhelming her. He stood from his chair and knelt before her, hands still clasped to his.

"Why on earth would I think that? You're the most incredible person I've ever met, and far from selfish. Why would you say that?"

"Because I keep complaining about everything with the pregnancy," she sobbed. He pulled her closer, as best he could with the baby in the way. "And you're right," she hiccupped, "it is incredible to feel the baby inside me. I'm just so tired, Rick. Being pregnant takes a lot out of you. Maybe I'm not meant to be a mother."

"Shh, Kate. I know it does. You've been such a trooper through all this. Pregnancy is demanding on your body. There's nothing wrong about complaining when it hurts, or that you want things back to normal. And you've already been a great mother, for these past eight and a half months. Our child is so lucky to have you."

"You really think so? I don't know what I'm doing," she sniffed.

"I don't think so. I _know_ so. And neither of us knows much, but we'll figure it out together, just like we have all along. Look at what we've accomplished so far. A baby can't be that bad."

"I'm so afraid I'll do something to screw up, and the kid'll hate me."

"You aren't going to screw up. Our baby is going to love you, just like I do." He clasped her tightly to his frame, hoping his words and his actions would be enough to reassure her.

* * *

January, 2001

The year 2001 entered much the same as the previous year: rain, rain, and rain. Unlike last year, however, they saw this year in under a snug roof with nary a leak. Kate felt secure and happy—she was in love with the man next to her, and the question of whether they'd be able to survive on this island alone had long been put to rest. It was amazing to consider how much her life had changed in the last few years: going from an average American teen, to essentially an orphan, to the victim of a natural and man-made disaster, to a wife, lover, and mother.

She couldn't help but smile widely at the thought of the past year with Rick. She'd never imagined she could ever love someone so much as she loved him. He wasn't a prince in a fairy tale—far from perfect, in many ways. But his imperfections made him real, and they fit together so seamlessly. He definitely brought out the best in her, and she hoped the reverse was true.

Stretching in bed, she felt Rick stir. It was late, well past midnight by her internal clock. She was used to being up at all hours now, but Rick usually was able to sleep unless she woke him up for something. However, his breathing was too irregular for him to be asleep.

"Rick?" she whispered into the soft dark breeze created by the fabulous fan turning above them, "You awake?"

He startled, confirming her suspicions that he wasn't sleeping either. She felt him roll towards her before she heard him hum his assent. The susurration of his voice, combined with the cloying darkness of the hour combined to make their conversation considerably more intimate than it would have in the light of day.

"Can't you sleep?" she wondered. "I didn't wake you, somehow, did I?"

She had, indirectly, but he wasn't sure he should bring it up. He didn't know how she'd react.

"I was awake. It's ok."

"What's wrong?" Even in the dark of the night she could hear the worry in his voice.

He rolled closer to her, running one hand up and down her arm, trying to reassure her. He didn't want to talk about this issue at all, but he was afraid if they didn't that there would be even bigger problems. If he misunderstood her wishes or her thoughts on this, he was worried that it would lead to difficulties with the delivery. That emotionally she wouldn't be ready, and it would somehow interfere.

"I don't want to upset you so close to delivery, but I've been thinking about something. I'm just not sure how to discuss it with you."

The tension in her body ratcheted up even further. Now she was scared. "Can't you just ask me? After all we've gone through together, you don't want to talk to me now?" her voice quavered.

"Oh, Kate, it's not that I don't want to talk to you. I'm just nervous about saying the wrong thing. I don't want to unsettle you if you've already come to grips with this by bringing it up again."

"Rick, if it's something I've already put to rest, then talking about it won't make it worse. And, whatever it is, if I haven't dealt with it, then talking together will only help. So, come on, out with it."

He sighed. She was right, and the intimacy he felt with her—just the two of them, alone in the world (or so it seemed)—made it just a bit more comfortable to talk about. Praying she'd forgive him this trespass over her emotional walls, he heaved out the heavy thoughts he'd been holding onto for a few days.

"It's about your mother."

They hung there, those words. They elicited a dark memory, and without light to banish them, they lingered between them. He felt her stiffen further, nearly rigid now. He'd known this was a mistake.

"What about my mother?" she hissed. Her tone, in the velvet night that enveloped them, was not reassuring.

"See, I told you that you wouldn't want to talk about it. I'm sorry, Kate. Please, let's forget about it for now."

He reassured her with repetitive petting and some soft kisses in her hair, until he felt her relax again. He thought she might have even fallen asleep, when she shocked him by breaking their mutual silence.

"It's ok. You just rattled me. It felt like it was a question from out of the blue, which I guess isn't fair. It is January, after all."

He rose up on his elbow. She couldn't see more than his outline, but the feeling of him looming over her felt protective. As if he was warding off any unseen forces trying to get to her.

"It is January, and in eight more days it will be the second anniversary of her murder. Last year, you disappeared on me. I found you unresponsive—and Kate, the thought of something like that happening again just rips at my guts."

She tried, halfheartedly, to joke her way out of it. It was a defensive mechanism to give her some time to deal with all that he was bringing up.

"Well, it was the first time you got to see me naked, so you got one positive out of it."

The silence spoke volumes.

She squirmed a bit, not sure she was ready for this conversation but knowing it was necessary to have it with him. Deciding she'd better get it over with, she elected to apologize first. Reaching out to the blackest outline in the dark, where his bulk eliminated any trace of light that might have punched through the heavy rain clouds over them, it was her turn to soothe.

"I'm sorry, that was a dumb thing to say. I know you didn't enjoy stripping my clothes off that day."

His voice was a low, choked sound. "No, Kate. That was not a pleasant task to do. There's little about that day that I enjoyed."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I just felt this incredible pressure bearing down on me during that time. It started in December, and it seemed so threatening to think about the short amount of time that I had before that day would be there. As it approached, it was like I couldn't think of anything else but her. What I'd lost when I lost her, and how she must have felt to be left in that cold alley, bleeding to death and unable to say goodbye to us. We never got to say goodbye."

A sob strangled her voice, and he was there to hold her. Normally, at this stage in her pregnancy, she was not too keen on close quarters. Too hot. But tonight, she needed him to hold her.

After crying for a good ten minutes, she finally felt ready to resume the conversation. She hadn't realized how much she needed to let her grief out; she'd been so preoccupied by the baby and the changes her body was going through.

Rick continued to hold her tight, even as her sobbing slowed down.

"Are you ok?" he asked when she seemed all cried out.

"Mostly. Thank you, I needed that. I didn't know how much I was ignoring."

"I've been worried about it; last year you were so focused on it, so this year when you didn't seem to be thinking of it at all…well, it scared me."

"You thought I wasn't processing it?"

"More or less. I was terrified the day would sneak up on you and you'd suddenly lose it again, like last year."

"It's different this year. I don't feel the same."

"Because you're pregnant?"

"I'm sure that's part of it. I have to worry about the baby, you know? Not everything can be about me right now, I've got Rodgers Junior to think of, and he or she is more important than the memories."

"That doesn't mean the memories aren't there, Kate, or that you should ignore your feelings about them."

"You're right, I shouldn't. But it was easier to shove it all aside then to try and deal with it, does that make sense?"

"Yeah. It does." He gently stroked the hair out of her eyes, even though he couldn't see her very well. He could picture how it lay on her head because it always ended up in the same general vicinity when she slept. He knew her so well; it was both amazing and terrifying. Because he knew how deeply she could hide, if she wanted to do so. Thank goodness they were able to talk to each other, and not hold things like this back.

"But, you know what, Rick? I don't think I would have run, even on January ninth. It might have hit me hard—it still might. But it won't be nearly as bad this year. This might sound silly, but it's like I can feel her with me at times. Especially as I get closer to delivery. I can hear her voice in my head sometimes. Like if the baby kicks really hard and catches me off guard. I can hear her telling me that I used to kick her even harder, and that it would all be worth it when I first see my child. I can take comfort in her memory within me, whereas last year I couldn't begin to do that."

"That's not silly, Kate. It's amazing, and I'm so glad that you have that from her. If she were still alive, she wouldn't be here with you either. Do you think that makes a difference in how you think about her?"

"Well, if she were still alive, I probably wouldn't be here on a deserted island with a husband, about to give birth. And I'm not implying that I'm glad or relieved she's dead, because it hurts. Really deeply. However, if she hadn't died, I wouldn't be with you. And I love you and this life we've made together. So, it's different this year than last. I'm more at peace with her passing, and I've got you. You're my rock, my anchor. We didn't have that kind of relationship last year."

"Kate, what if…" he trailed off. She had no idea what he was thinking, this time, so curiosity overrode her patience. She didn't want to sit in silence for however it took him to gather the courage to ask whatever it was he wanted to know.

"What if what?"

She felt him give his head a small shake, then felt, rather than saw, him smile.

"You don't let me get away with anything, do you?"

"Nope. My prerogative as your wife. Now, what if what?"

"What if you deliver on January ninth?"

She was speechless. It honestly hadn't crossed her mind. Which was stupid, because there was obviously no magical power that would prevent labor on that day. In her head, it was always just a date compartmentalized separately from the rest of the calendar. January 8th, ho hum. January 9th, my mother was murdered. Nothing else of import could happen on that day; it was already taken over by an event that overwhelmed her when she really thought about it. So, no, she couldn't deliver on that day.

"You know it could happen, Kate."

No, no it couldn't. "I don't think it will…I don't know why I say that, but my due date isn't until a week or so later. And don't most first time pregnancies go late? Though I am not advocating that, little baby," she directed at her distended abdomen.

"But what if it does? Babies are predictably unpredictable."

"Well, I guess I'll just have to deal with it. I won't have much of a choice, will I?"

It wasn't the most reassuring response to Rick, but he felt better knowing that they'd been able to talk about the approaching anniversary. He no longer worried that she'd go off on the deep end. They talked of less weighty matters for a few more minutes before drifting into sleep, still embracing.

Kate woke up an hour later roasting hot. Jolting him awake with a kick to the shins, she made him move away from her before they both went back to sleep.

* * *

Rick's worries about January 9th proved meaningless when the day came and went with no sign of any baby. Kate was a little quieter, a bit down, but she didn't shut him out or close herself off. In fact, she threw herself at him in a tight hug when he took her out to the orchard and showed her a pretty flowering tree he'd planted the day before in Johanna's honor. It stood away from the fruit trees, and would grow into a marvelous spot for shade and quiet reflection as years went by.

With her due date rapidly approaching, Rick found himself reluctant to let her out of his sight. He tried to give her space, but she didn't venture far from the lake or the house, and there were only so many places for him to hang out in while keeping an eye on her. However, she was relatively benign in her complaints about him being underfoot constantly. She knew why he didn't want to leave her alone, and she wouldn't take that protectiveness away from him.

* * *

January 15th was two days before her calculated due date. She woke up, as always, with an aching back and a burning desire to pee. Clambering to her feet, she bemoaned the thought of walking to the outhouse. It was so humid, it felt like she was breathing in pure water. Walking was miserable, so as soon as she was done, she headed for the lake. Rick trailed behind her, bringing her some fruit and a water bottle.

She didn't feel like eating, but the puppy dog eyes of her husband begged her to do some justice to the plate he'd prepared for her. Sipping on the water, she grimaced.

"What's the matter, Kate?"

"My back is killing me today. Do you think you could rub it for me?"

"Absolutely!"

His magical massages nearly always helped, but today's wasn't as relieving as she would have liked.

"Your back is so tight today. Is this helping at all?"

She shook her head. "Not really."

"Why don't we try walking in the water?"

It was an exercise that they'd started; they ambled along in the water, usually chest deep. It felt good to stretch her legs and it put much less pressure on her back.

Rick could tell it wasn't helping within a few minutes.

"Kate, maybe we should go back up to the kitchen. I want to check something."

"Ok." Honestly, nothing was helping, so she figured she might as well humor him.

When they got to the kitchen, he helped lower her into the comfortable chair she used for knitting. Once she was situated, he spanned the front of her belly with his hands.

"What are you doing?"

"Just checking something."

"The baby's been quiet so far. I don't think you'll feel him."

"It's not him I'm trying to feel."

"Oh." She wasn't sure how to respond to that. If not the baby, what else was there?

Suddenly, a crampy abdominal pain hit her, making the back pain seem like small potatoes by comparison. Rick looked up with an anxious cast to his face.

"Kate! You're in labor."

* * *

**Ready to plunge down the other side of this hill? Next two updates will be quite the ride! Love to hear what y'all think.**


	58. Chapter 58: It's the Final Countdown

**This chapter is dedicated to abbykov. A labor and delivery room nurse, she graciously agreed to read ahead and let me know if I achieved my vision of the delivery of the first Rodgers child. Thank you so much!**

**This chapter, along with the next two, are the culmination of the first half of my story arc. I hope that you will consider letting me know how I've done with it all, even if you've never left a message for me previously. Whether it's through a review, a PM, a tweet or tumblr message, I'd love to know what everyone thinks about this conclusion. Again, not the end of the fic, just the end of this part of the story arc.**

* * *

April, 2010

"What do you think?"

"I think they are clever. However, I think we are their match."

"Well, we certainly have better resources available to us, however reluctant Capitaine Tissot may be."

Grollet frowned. He had called in multiple favors to achieve this chase; the President of French Polynesia has no legal command over the French Navy. However, he had carefully cultivated considerations from men in positions of power that would ensure his quarry did not escape this time.

"We are so close; I practically smell them," he crowed to his underling. "I can just imagine the looks on the faces of that bitch Kate Beckett and Richard-I'm-so-famous-Rodgers right before you put a bullet through their heads."

Tane frowned. He'd known, theoretically, that Henri would likely call on him to do the actual dirty work. It was his role to play in their relationship: Henri was the brains, he was the muscle. However, it seemed to him that his boss was forgetting something very, very important. And Tane would not go to jail for an oversight.

"Why are we killing Rodgers? He's got press hounding him all over Tahiti."

"Because he knows too much, you fool. And you're killing them; I can't afford to have my hands sullied by this little project. Besides, I tried to kill them once and it didn't take. You'll be better at this than I."

"What are we going to do with the bodies? And how will you explain the absence of Rodgers?"

"Well, he left the press high and dry, with nary a word as to where he was going, didn't he? We'll probably just weight their bodies and toss them to the sharks. What does it matter? The island is deserted, is it not?"

"I suppose it is. But, what about their friends? There's a cargo ship waiting for them."

"That's the beauty of using the Navy—we'll have them scare them off. They can't confess as to what they're really doing. They'll have no choice but to leave. You and I will head to the island, alone, and discover it 'empty.' No one will be the wiser."

"Won't their friends come back once the naval ship leaves?"

"Probably, but it will take a while. By then, their bodies will have disappeared forever."

"But their friends will know they _were_ there. And that _we_ were there as well. Then their friends _weren't_ there."

"Who will everyone believe? The President of French Polynesia, trying to help an old shipmate find the wreck of the _Iriata_? Or that of a cargo ship captain? Please, I know how to do this."

Tane held his tongue, but it seemed to him that the story Henri was spinning had more holes in it than a sea sponge. And the biggest problem of all was that he—Tane—would be holding the smoking gun, both literally and figuratively. They were going to have to be very convincing for this to work.

* * *

January, 2001

"I'm in labor?"

"Yeah, the early stages. This is the time for dilation. No pushing, or anything like that, for a while."

"How do I know what to do? What if I don't do something?" Kate was looking a bit panicked. Suddenly, everything was happening way too fast.

"Relax, Kate. It's going to be fine. You just need to listen to your body. It knows what to do. You've been preparing for this for months; you just didn't know it."

He reached over and put his hands on her shoulders. Looking deep into her eyes, he projected his love and confidence. They could do this.

"You'll be with me?" she quavered.

"Every step of the way, sweetheart. Every step of the way. Now, are you ready to meet your baby?"

She sniffed, a few tears escaping despite her efforts. "Yes. What do we do now?"

"Well, I want to check and see how dilated you are, but I doubt it's much. Then, we'll do some walking. You can rest anytime you want to, ok?"

"Ok."

She was noticing contractions every 6 to 10 minutes. They weren't too strong, which was a relief. She'd heard natural birth could be very painful, and while she was brave, she worried she wouldn't be able to face it when the time came. Not that she had a choice in the matter, but it was a real fear.

Rick helped her up, and they walked to the birthing hut. She settled in the comfortable chair he'd made, and tried to imagine what the next few hours would look like. Rick built a fire in the pit they had in this part of the complex, then put a kettle of water on to boil. Turning back to her, he could see she was still quite anxious.

"Kate, today is all about you. Whatever you feel like doing, we'll do. You want to rest, you'll rest. Anything you need, I'll get for you. Ok? But I'll be with you no matter what."

She just nodded. A minor contraction caught her attention, and she began to think that if this was as bad as things got, all in all she'd be ok.

* * *

April, 2010

Rick sat huddled next to Salesi in the Zodiac as it zipped closer and closer to his wife and children. They'd been in the boat for a couple of hours; Tamahere was currently driving, but Loison and Rick both had taken turns. It was cold, due to the constant sea spray landing on their exposed skin, in turn buffeted by the wind generated by their speed.

He didn't mind any of it, however. He was just thrilled to be on his final approach. He'd tried imagining the reunion scene multiple times in his head. Each version was a little different, but all ended with him hugging his family close and never letting go again. The thought of seeing them for the first time was exhilarating; it alone would have kept him warm in the coldest Siberian tundra. A little spray and wind were no match.

"You need to rest," Salesi boomed at him, trying to be heard over the whine of the powerful engine as they pounded through the waves.

"I can't," he shouted back. "Too close; too excited."

"There are hours left, Rick. You're no good exhausted."

Rick cast a jaundiced eye at his friend. It might have been the longest speech he'd ever heard the man utter.

"Fine, but you rest too."

"Fine."

Rick figured the appearance of resting would fool the Samoan enough to get him off his back. He was entirely too keyed up to ever imagine he'd sleep. Images of Kate, their kids kept playing on a loop in his head. He couldn't wait to see them.

Laurent and the two others were in the bow. It was the worst place to sit, as the spray was unavoidable up in the front. Rick had worried about the older journalist, but he'd waved him off.

"I've spent hours in far worse conditions trying to get a story. You think this is bad, you should try a real life war zone. That's discomfort. This is just a minor irritation to overcome."

Sure enough, the old guy had brought out a space age looking blanket—very thin and shiny—wrapped himself in it, and promptly fell asleep. He looked far more at ease than anyone else in the boat, even though he was older by 20 years at least.

Eyes closed, Rick reveled in a series of scenes from his life with Kate and their kids flickering across an internal screen. As the boat grew ever closer to their destination, it seemed as the colors were sharper, the sounds and smells of the jungle that surrounded their home bringing the pictures to life in his head. As he allowed himself to hear the voices of his kids shouting in glee over a game they'd played, he unwittingly smiled. It would not be long now. He would hear their voices raised in welcome in a matter of hours. He could hardly wait.

* * *

January, 2001

"Three centimeters, Kate. It's probably going to be a while. Plus, your water hasn't broken. What do you want to do for now?"

Kate considered her options. She was contracting every 6 to 8 minutes or so; it was still quite variable. Fortunately, the pain was still tolerable.

"Could we walk for a bit? I feel like moving."

"Absolutely. Let me grab some water, and we'll head off."

He bounded out of the room, returning in only a little time to help her up out of the chair she sat in.

"Where do you want to go?"

"Can we walk down to the waterfall?"

"I'll walk anywhere you want to. The waterfall it is, then." Holding out an arm to support her, he led the way.

They walked slowly. Kate's size precluded any fast pace anyway, but each contraction made her stop for a moment until the pain had faded again into the background discomfort that was always present thanks to her back.

"Are you doing ok?" Rick asked on their fourth stop. She seemed to be clutching his hand a little more firmly than before.

"They're slowly getting stronger, but it's ok so far."

"Just let me know if you need to rest, or want to stop for a while."

"I will, Rick. We're fine, for now."

"You think the baby knows what's going on?"

"I don't know, but I got a few little kicks when it all started. Now things have quietened down in there. Maybe he's resting up for the big debut?"

Rick laughed. "Well, my mother _is_ an actress, after all. Maybe her flair for the dramatic has been passed on to our baby."

Kate pretended to shudder. "I hope not _too_ dramatic. There's no room for diva demands on a desert island."

"Definitely not. I can just imagine my mother taking one look around Pereora, and asking where the tiki bar might be located. She's not much into roughing it."

"You don't talk about her much," Kate reflected.

"Well, we're so busy most of the time. Not much time to sit around and shoot the breeze."

"True. But now we have nothing but time. Why don't you tell me about her while we walk?"

* * *

April, 2010

"I've been looking over the maps on my iPad, and I have the most likely places for you to review."

Grollet sat up. It was now late in the evening, and Tane had been pouring over the tablet for hours. He'd been making measurements, comparing the course of both the _Vaitiare_ and the _Oriata_, just so they didn't mistakenly focus on one versus the other.

They were alone, of course. This kind of work required isolation from others. No one seemed suspicious, and if they were, he planned to act as though the whole charade was for publicity. No one would question a politician looking to be in front of the cameras when a highly proclaimed event took place.

"Show me."

"So, the most likely destination is one of the Gambiers, which are the most southerly islands in the group. The Tuamotus are further north, and the _Vaitiare_ is taking too southerly a course to consider them."

"Ok, agreed."

"Many of the Gambiers are uninhabited, and not many get visited—especially those near Mururoa, which is the atoll that the French government used to conduct nuclear testing."

"The last nuclear test was in 1996."

"Yes, but people worry about the how it might have affected nearby life. Don't you get reports from the Navy? They were visiting the area surrounding Mururoa every 6 months, collecting samples and recording statistics."

"Yes. I remember that there are higher numbers of people in that area diagnosed with cancer and thyroid disorders."

"Exactly. People were very upset with the testing; remember that one test in 1979 was detonated only halfway down the shaft, and actually cracked the atoll? There remains grave concern that the whole atoll could undergo collapse, and release the radioactive material that's been contained in the deep shafts that they drilled into the volcanic base. It would contaminate the whole area."

"Ok, so I'll agree that they are probably in the Gambiers. Which one?"

"There's one other possibility. Remember, the Gambiers geologically are also related to the Pitcairn islands. And 3 of the 4 of the Pitcairns are uninhabited."

"That would be a problem," Grollet mused.

"Yes, a big one. Seeing as how the Pitcairns are British soil."

* * *

January, 2001

"You ready to walk back?"

She nodded. The contractions were slowly building, wave upon inexorable wave. They were still not intense enough to really bother her—more like very bad menstrual cramps, just more frequent. But walking was making it all speed up. She was ready to rest for a bit.

"You said you and your mom moved around a lot?" She wanted to concentrate on something besides the regular spasms, and Rick was a good storyteller.

"That's the life of an itinerant actress. You go where the show goes. The touring Broadway productions were a boon to a single mom whose career depended on roles. That or get a low-paying secretarial position or such. She tried it once; it was a disaster. So, we toured."

"That must have been," she gasped, pausing for a noticeable few seconds more than even five minutes ago. "Hard," she exhaled, as the wave broke and she was able to breathe again.

"It wasn't easy for either of us. I led a pretty lonely life. Every time I'd made a friend in one town, it was time to go to the next. After a while, I just stopped bothering. That's when I discovered that with a book, you could escape to a completely different place. They transported me far from my troubles, and they could come with me from place to place."

"Oh, Rick. That sounds so unsettled."

"It was. But I never lacked for anything. We were far from rich, but I never went hungry or wanted for a warm place to stay. Looking back on it all now, as an adult, I wonder if mother could always say the same thing. I was too young to realize it at the time, but it must have been a very hard life for her."

"Did you ever ask her about it?"

"No, no I never did," he reflected. He'd turned into a selfish being, bent on satisfying every vice that he had. No room for introspection or discussion of his mother's life at the time. Then, Meredith had sallied forth and blown his attempt at normality into smithereens.

Kate stopped abruptly, gasping again and bending over slightly. He supported her by both elbows, lending any strength she needed. As she came back down, he gave her a soft squeeze.

"They're coming a bit harder now."

She just nodded.

"Let's get you back to the hut. Maybe sitting for a bit will ease things."

Trudging slowly towards their home, she hoped she would have the courage to get through this.

* * *

April, 2010

The shuffle of Loison trading places with Tamahere woke him. It was hard to believe that he'd fallen asleep, but he somehow had. A dream of the island, their life, had replaced his conscious thoughts of the same. Either way, he was beyond excited. And anxious.

The night was pitch black, save for the dim glow from the instrument panel of the cockpit in front of him. He'd been given a crash course in the operations of the boat, but as they drew nearer none of the rest of the crew would let him navigate. He didn't know how to operate the GPS doohickey or the tablet thingy that they had maps opened on.

Though it was fascinating technology, it was hard to believe that they trusted it so inherently that they were willing to go full speed in zero visibility conditions. Tamahere had reassured him it was extremely precise, and that virtually all marine vessels now relied on it primarily.

It was asking for trouble, if you asked him, but he wasn't going to object to anything that got him to Kate and the kids faster. So, he prayed and bit his tongue. The others didn't even act concerned that they might be ripped to shreds by an errant reading that placed them on a collision course with a rock.

He felt, rather than saw, Salesi stand and walk to the bow. A body collapsing into the space emptied by the big man explained why he'd moved. A cultured voice in his ear told him it was Laurent.

"Mr. Rodgers, have you thought about how this is going to play out when we arrive at your island? It is about 3 hours until sunrise; I'm told we'll be there around an hour later."

"You've read the chapters I've already written?"

"_Oui_."

"Then you know about the two narrow beaches at the front of the island, next to the channel. We'll land on the larger beach."

"To what end? Surely you do not expect to find your family there, do you?"

"I highly doubt it. However, most of you will need to wait there while Tamahere and I go inside."

Rick felt the other man stiffen in protest, then heard the affronted tone to his voice when he found the words he wanted to express.

"Wait? Surely you are joking! What would be the purpose of this?"

"This is not up for debate. I will go in with Tamahere."

"Monsieur Rodgers, need I remind you that you are sitting in a boat provided by my employer, after escaping the French navy with a plan envisioned by one of my colleagues, headed to a reunion with the woman you love with a story so dangerous that my services are required? You may not place restrictions on what we do or do not do."

It was Rick's turn to stiffen. "With all due respect, Monsieur Laurent, I will absolutely not allow the reunion with my family to be filmed. It is far too private and personal a moment to be sullied by the intrusion of a camera. I won't budge on this matter."

"Well, I will not be left standing on a beach, awaiting your leisure to deign to join us. I have a job to do, and like it or not, that job is going to save your family."

Rick closed his eyes. All the things he wanted to say but couldn't voice threatened to spill out of their own accord. How he worried that they wouldn't be there. Or only some of them would be there. What if they were very ill? What if Kate had died or disappeared? So many catastrophic scenarios played through his head. Having witnesses, besides Tamahere, would be devastating.

Deciding to voice what most would find to be a reasonable justification for his decision, he reopened his eyes to address Laurent in the dark.

"It's doubtful that they have any clothes left to wear. The kids were used to very minimal coverings. What if my wife is unclothed when we arrive? You would give her that humiliation, in the midst of men she's never met then has to be interviewed by them? Not to mention overwhelming the children—they've never seen another human being besides their mother and me."

Laurent stroked his chin, nearly unseen in the dark. "I suppose you are correct about that, Monsieur. Let me dwell on the problem. We still have a long way to go before we must decide what to do."

With that, Rick vowed to try and sleep. He needed to be sharp when the next battle was enjoined.

* * *

January, 2001

"Six centimeters, Kate. It's probably going to get a little more intense now."

Kate groaned. The contractions were now quite regular, about 5 minutes apart, and the intensity was definitely climbing.

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't know," she cried. "I just want this to stop. I'm not ready. I don't want to do this, Rick." Her eyes pleaded with his.

"Kate, you know we can't make it stop. You're going to get through this, you just have to listen to your body. What is it telling you to do?"

Still sobbing a little, she closed her eyes and tried to relax. Not much chance of that with these horrible contractions threatening to overwhelm her. Suddenly she had an overpowering desire to be in the water. She knew it would relax her, which would keep her from fighting the pain instead of riding it like she needed to be.

Upon hearing her wish, Rick jumped up to finish filling the tub. He'd half-filled it earlier, when she was resting, knowing there was a good chance she'd want to get in it at some point. Now he just needed hot water, to make it a comfortable temperature.

Ten minutes later, it was nice and warm—not too hot, but enough for her to relax.

"C'mon, babe. It's ready for you," he smiled as he helped her up again from the chair.

Settling into the warm water made her groan audibly in relief. "Oh, Rick, this is heavenly. Thank you."

Kissing her head, he absently rubbed circles in her back. "Let me go get some more water on the fire, then I'll come give you another massage."

Kate nodded, sliding down a bit in the large tub. This had been just what she needed. Relaxing, she already felt more in control of the pain. When the next contraction hit, she visualized riding it like a wave, instead of fighting against it as she had before. She panted with it as well, and for the first time she felt in control of her body. At that moment, she knew she _could_ get through this, and that her body would know exactly what to do as things progressed.

* * *

April, 2010

Morning had dawned clear. Tissot relished the start of the dry season. He didn't mind storms, as they threw a few challenges into otherwise stale patrols. However, it was nice to enjoy the balmy weather that dry season brought.

He was just about to start on his second delicious cup of coffee while flicking through reports and messages from the overnight shift, when he heard a throat clear behind him.

"_Oui_, Matelot Lefebvre? What do you need?"

"Capitaine, I am sorry to interrupt. President Grollet has requested an audience, sir."

Resisting the childish urge to toss his mug at the wall, Tissot instead took in a deep cleansing breath. He'd not expected to have to entertain the President this early in the morning.

They were still following the _Vaitiare_. The chase through the night had brought them into the Gambier district. Already east of Morane Island, they appeared to be headed towards Mangareva, which was where the municipality was administered from.

He decided he might as well get the visit with Grollet over with. Putting it off would just prolong the inevitable, not to mention potentially angering the President of the territory he was living in. Not a battle he wanted to have to wage.

"Send him in, please."

"At once, sir."

He heard the slither of his entrance before he saw the man.

"Good morning, Capitaine Tissot. I trust you had a restful night?"

"Yes, Monsieur President. It was quite peaceful. And yourself?"

"Ah, it was quite…enlightening. I have come to let you know that my aide, Tane, and I will be leaving your ship for an excursion."

Tissot was surprised. Grollet had seemed to be quite obsessed with chasing the cargo ship. Now he was leaving?"

"It is an unavoidable business matter, quite distasteful to be honest. We must leave within the hour."

"Sir, I am…I am stunned. Where must you go, and in such a rush?"

Grollet waved off his concerns. "It is of no import to the Navy. I just wanted to let you know that we'll be leaving on the helicopter as soon as it is ready to fly. We'll be gone some hours, but back again at the latest in the afternoon."

Knowing he'd been brushed off, and could do nothing about it, Tissot felt his misgivings growing. Something was rotten about this whole affair, but he still wasn't sure what on earth was going on. Unfortunately, he had no power or authority to keep the man on his vessel.

"Yes, sir. Is there anything else you need?"

"No, that is all."

"Your pilot can leave his flight plan with the officer in charge of the deck. We will see you this afternoon then, sir." Tissot was turning to go back to his pile of reports when the voice of Grollet interrupted one last time. There was a ring of authority, even that of a threat in his voice. It was an unmistakable command.

"Actually, Capitaine, this is a matter of security. We will not be filing a flight plan. We will radio when we are making our approach back to the ship."

Grollet walked out dismissively, and the misgivings in Tissot's stomach erupted fully into foreboding.

* * *

January, 2001

"How's that, Kate?"

"Better. It feels better."

He'd just completed her back massage. With her feeling relaxed in the tub, the contractions had slowed down a little. Kate suddenly felt the urge to walk again.

"Rick, I want out of the tub, please."

"Ok, let me grab a t-shirt for you."

"No, I don't want to wear anything. I feel fine the way I am."

"Naked?"

"Who's to see me? You think the chickens will object?"

"Well, no. But you really want to walk around naked?"

"It'll be cooler. Besides, I don't think I'll be walking far. Just down to the lake and back. I'm not planning on hiking."

Rick helped her out of the tub. As soon as she was standing, she felt the next contraction coming. And it was strong, perhaps the strongest yet. Fortunately, she was able to ride it out with her new ability to visualize riding the pain.

"You ok to walk?" he asked, once she'd stopped trying to crush his fingers.

"Yeah."

They ambled—well, Rick ambled. Kate felt her gait was better described as 'drunk, blindfolded possum.' She moved slowly, hesitantly at times, stopping and starting again frequently, with lots of hissing.

She made it to the lakeshore, but was nearly brought to her knees by the next contraction.

"Ohhhh, Rick. Oh, man," she panted. Pausing to try and breathe through it, it seemed to take hours for it to recede again. "I want to go back, Rick. Get me back. I need to sit."

"Ok, babe. Do you want me to pick you up and carry you?"

She shook her head no. Not yet. As the last contraction slowly trailed off, she started walking again. She hadn't taken more than three steps when she stopped abruptly, a surprised look on her face.

"What's the matter, Kate? Another contraction?"

She shook her head. "No. Rick, my water just broke."


	59. Chapter 59: Welcome to the Jungle

**This chapter is dedicated to gloriajv. She's been enjoying this fic for some time, and I love hearing her take on things. She's accused me of trying to kill her with the recent updates. I definitely was hoping that they would be exciting chapters, and it seems most of you feel that the rapid back and forth between the times did add in tension. But, I'm really not trying murder anyone with the angst! Anyway, thanks for all the support, Gloria!**

* * *

April, 2010

The kiss of sun on his face woke him again. It was probably the first ray of light that had been able to penetrate the dark curtain of night, but it was more than enough energy to wake him. Light meant they were close. Very close.

Laurent had moved again, and Salesi's reassuring bulk was next to him once more. Everyone but Loison, who was in the cockpit, seemed to be asleep.

The unspoken fears of the night before roared back into existence nearly the minute he opened his eyes. Defenseless against the agony of what might have happened to them while he was gone, he abruptly threw himself to the port side and emptied his stomach.

When he'd stopped heaving, he pushed off the soft rail of the inflatable boat and started to return to his seat. Salesi was awake now, staring at him.

Settling down, Rick flicked a glance at the big man. He was still looking at him.

"What?"

"You are nervous."

"Uh, yeah."

"It will not be long, now."

Not trusting himself to speak, Rick just nodded his head. His longing to see the island, his family, was so strong that he felt like he would be pulled right out of the boat and straight to Pereora.

They had zigzagged their course to make it appear they were approaching several different uninhabited islands, just in case they'd been tracked. Now, all that deception had come to an end. Their approach would be as an arrow loosed at a target. He would strike true.

Standing, he moved to the bow. There was little room up here, with the three sleeping men sprawled out, still slumbering despite the breaking dawn. He picked his way to the very front, then sat peering forward.

He would be the first to _see_ their destination.

He would be the _first_ to cry 'Land Ho.'

He would _be_ the first.

He _would_ be.

_He_ would.

* * *

January, 2001

A ripping pain caught her off guard seconds after her water broke. Hours after her labor had begun, her uterus all of a sudden meant business.

Rick caught her as she started to fold to the ground.

"Breathe, Kate, breathe. Remember to ride it out."

His voice sounded far off. The pain was so intense; she could hear it roaring in her ears. Or perhaps that was her own voice, crying out. Either way, his advice, no matter how well intentioned, meant nothing to her right now. Her only focus was on getting past this pain.

She fought to try and relax. To surf the crest of the wave. Fighting it would exhaust her quickly, so she had to submit to it. She was aware, on some level, that she was being supported. That Rick was holding her. This felt right to her; it was how it should be. He could do little to assist, but propping her up, buttressing her as she was subsumed into her body's demands was something he _could_ do. She would need his strength as things progressed.

The tide finally ebbed, and she became aware, once again, of her surroundings. He was holding her up. Shifting, she stood on her own.

"Are you ok?"

The inane question annoyed her. "Do I look ok?"

"Uh, well," he hemmed. "I'm not sure how to answer that."

"Then you're smarter than you look. Get me back to the hut. Now, Rick."

"Sure, Kate." Given a task to accomplish, he was unhesitating. Scooping her up, she relaxed against his body as he carried her up the familiar path. '_Please let me get through this_,' she thought, as she felt the onset of yet another agonizing contraction. '_Please let this go well, for both of us_.'

* * *

April, 2010

"You have everything you need?" Grollet asked, yet again. Tane was offended at the constant second guessing. It felt like Henri had no trust in him, much like the early days of their friendship—just after the shipwreck and their own saga adrift at sea.

Of course, he knew why his boss was so anxious. A lot was riding on this mission. If Kate Beckett was really, truly alive, then the threat to their not-insignificant positions was huge. Humongous. So, he put up with Henri's constant questioning of his preparedness.

"I'm ready. Don't worry about me. Have you made your final decision?"

Henri nodded. They were about to board the helicopter. "I looked at each of the candidates, but two islands really stood out to me. The pilot has assured me we have enough fuel to visit both."

"We're not invading Britain, are we?"

"No. The Pitcairns are too far. I don't think they're on any of them—the _Vaitiare_ isn't even near them, and besides, the Pitcairners have a habit of vacationing on the uninhabited islands, like Oeno, once a year. If they'd been stranded on one of those islands, they would have been found by now."

"Good. If we'd been found landing there, I'm not sure even your political charms would have been enough to keep us from being grilled."

"So where _are_ we going?"

Grollet glanced around. There were enough seamen surrounding them that he was uncomfortable discussing the matter in the open.

"Let's wait until we're in the air. I'll show you on the tablet; the map you downloaded on it is quite handy."

Tane nodded in agreement. This mission would either buy them time, allow them to finally bury the past, or it would be fruitless. If the former, they'd be able to return to their lives, satisfied nothing else was hanging over their heads. If the latter, well, it would be a guillotine blade poised to strike.

* * *

January, 2001

Depositing her in the chair, Rick next washed his hands. Kate was panting through another contraction—another bad one. Once her water had broken, the intensity of the labor had increased dramatically.

As her panting slowed, he saw her deep internal focus relax, and she became aware of him again.

"Kate, I need to check you again. You're getting close to the stage where you can push."

She nodded, still recovering from the last contraction. Now she understood why women lined up for anesthetics for delivery, if they could. This hurt.

"You're nearly there, Kate."

"I can't push yet?" she whimpered. She just wanted this baby out of her.

"Not yet. Pushing now would only exhaust you, at best, and cause damage, at worst. You're really close, though. I'll recheck you after a few more contractions, ok?"

"Ok," she groaned.

"What do you feel like doing for the next contractions? Do you want to get back in the tub, or walk around a bit more?"

She closed her eyes, opening her mind to feeling what her body was demanding of her.

"Tub, please."

"Ok, I'll pour some more hot water in it, then settle you in."

She kept her eyes closed, attempting to rest before the next wave crashed into her. She could hear him bustling around her, but she drew a mental line around her body. Within that space everything slowed and relaxed. She listened to her heart beat, regulated her breathing and suspended herself in the moment.

All of which worked for the minute or so granted to her before the next contraction assailed her. As the pain breached her meager mental defenses once more, all she could think of was that this freaking _hurt_ before she was tossed into the maelstrom once more.

* * *

April, 2010

Squinting into the bright sun that crisped the eastern sky, Rick surveyed the horizon for the ten thousandth time with the binoculars. They were very close. He could feel the surrounding ocean welcoming him home. He'd even mentioned that little tidbit to Salesi, who'd just regarded him with a strange look, then muttered something about sun burn.

It was true that Rick was much paler than when he'd lived in the open: prisons are not known for allowing their inmates to lounge around sunbathing. However, he wasn't so pale that he'd been burned. At least, not badly.

Putting a pair of dark sunglasses back on, he resisted the urge to move back to the cockpit for the nine thousandth time to beg Loison, who was currently navigating once more, to show him exactly where they were in relation to Fenua Pari, or Tuaivi. He'd seemed a little surly when Rick had asked five minutes ago.

They'd slowed considerably. Very few people bothered with this part of the ocean; it was not as nearly well mapped as most places. The danger of being ripped open by a rock increased dramatically the closer they got to the island, which Rick was well aware had a surrounding halo of rock ready to tear them apart.

He made himself count to one hundred before picking up the binoculars again. Sliding the sunglasses to the top of his head, he scanned the horizon in a slow sweep. Nothing was visible beyond the two blue lines where the sea and sky met.

He swept past it the first time. A just visible dark spot that broke up the line enjoined by the two blue friends. His eyes had moved on to the next sector before his brain caught up. But, it did register—somewhere within—and he swung the binoculars back to the dark spot.

No question. It was not his imagination. He could see it.

"Land ho," he whispered softly, tears gathering in his eyes. There was no need to say anything; Loison knew exactly where they were by the GPS monitor. And Rick wasn't about to surrender the binoculars to anyone, even if they asked.

* * *

January, 2001

She was in the bath for nearly thirty minutes. Or about ten incredibly intense contractions. Time was now defined by her body, so felt it was her right to interpret the concept however she wished to.

The water had—perhaps—eased the sensation of pain a smidge. But not much. Yet, she had to ride through the contractions whether she was in or out of the water. So, she had chosen to stay in. However, she was now ready to change her mind.

"Rick, I need out."

He was sitting on a stool next to the tub, holding her hand and trying—failing, but nonetheless trying—to help her pant through the paroxysms that were now lasting over a minute to minute and a half long.

Jumping up, he grabbed one of their towels to get her at least semi-dry. As she stood within his embrace, leaning against his chest, he felt her tremble as another contraction began to build.

She cried out, "Rick, I need to push. Please, I _have_ to."

"Not yet, Kate." He picked her up and moved her to the chair. She was battling herself, trying not to bear down. "Breathe through it, you can do it. Just breathe through it."

She screamed. It was the first time she'd really screamed in pain, and it scared him. He hated hearing her torment, seeing the agony that he couldn't help with.

She screamed, but she didn't push. She found something deep within that she clung to, and listened to his advice. She just hoped it would all be over soon. She wasn't sure how much longer she could take pain like this. Her body was crying for her to _do_ something.

Gradually the agony receded, one irritated nerve at a time, until she was able to attend to her surroundings once more.

"I need to check you again, Kate. Maybe you can start pushing."

"Oh, lord," she gulped. "I hope so. Please don't tell me if I can't."

He helped position her in the chair, then sent a wish skyward as he assessed her readiness to deliver.

"Kate," he gulped. "It's time."

* * *

April, 2010

They were nearing the first island. It looked like an oasis in a desert of blue sand. Lush, with wide sandy beaches stretching around it.

"How do you want to do this?" he shouted to Grollet.

"We'll sweep the place from the air. If there's no sign of habitation, then there's no use landing. It'll take too much fuel to land and take off again. I don't want to do that if it's empty."

Tane nodded. Their fuel window was tight. Though the chopper was an old military design, with extra fuel tanks for distance, it still had a limited range. They would be pushing it, in Tane's opinion, with the second island.

He heard Grollet instruct the pilot. The man worked directly for Grollet, and had been flying this particular craft for almost a year now. While he was not privy to the secrets that Tane was, the pilot was a Grollet henchman. He would do whatever his boss told him to do.

They peered out at the island below them, looking for any signs of life. Nothing out of the ordinary turned up. It was a pristine island, and appeared as if no human had ever stepped foot on its sandy shore. Tane knew better—all the islands had been visited, at least once, but many had been uninhabited for years. Some had never held people for more than a brief moment.

"Doesn't look like this is the one," he shouted at Grollet as they finished the sweep.

"No, it does not. I never had high hopes for it anyway," he confessed. "But, this one was on the way."

"Ok, well I hope you chose the next one well. Otherwise, we're in deep."

Grollet just waved at him. He was very confident of his next choice.

* * *

January, 2001

"Do you want to use the harness that I arranged, so you can squat, or the chair?"

"Chair," she panted. She felt comfortable in it. He'd arranged the back so that it could recline, sort of like the back of a chaise lounge you might find around a pool. It had armrests to grip, as well as sturdy posts that she could use to push on with her feet. Given the right arrangement, she could nearly squat in this if she wanted.

Once she was happy with her positioning, she was ready. She wanted this over with. She just hoped the baby would cooperate.

"Ok, when you start to feel the next contraction, I want you to take a deep breath and push. Slow and steady. I'll count to ten, and you'll push with the contraction, not against it."

Kate nodded. She felt prepared for this stage of the labor.

Rick watched her closely. She was tired, but seemed determined and ready to get through this last stage.

As she felt the wave of the next contraction start to rise, she took a deep breath. It was time to meet her baby.

* * *

April, 2010

The island known as Tuaivi, or Fenua Pari to those who lived there, now loomed large over them. Rick was in the front of the bow once more, though his eyes were on the sea in front and not on the island that had played such a large role in his life.

They'd just entered the outer band of rock strewn ocean that protected the island from the merely curious. One really had to want to go there, to risk this passage.

Tamahere was now in the cockpit; his years on the sea, combined with his connection to Rick made him the best person to be commanding the boat at this critical time.

They were on the lowest power possible, yet still enough to make way against the outgoing tide. Loison stood next to Tamahere, ready to help in any way possible.

As they had neared the island, all could see how deeply affected Rick had become. Examining the outline of the island that was their destination, it appeared as it had been described to them by others: a large rock in the middle of a minefield of smaller rocks. Certainly nothing to invite closer inspection.

As Rick had mentioned, they could see the bare outlines of the narrow beaches that he had written about. However, none of them could see any hint of the cleft, and they knew where to look. Nor could they see any signs of human habitation; it was simply too far to see from the safe position beyond the rocks.

Laurent had asked Guilbert to start filming as they'd approached. He wanted to capture scenes of the desolate island for the story they would be presenting. No one would wonder why Rick and Kate had never been discovered after seeing the location of the island. The next land one would hit to the east was the coast of Chile, over 6,000 kilometers away. There were no further islands, nor anything of interest. No reason for boats to venture past.

A tense half hour passed as they slowly made their way past the guardians of stone. Yet, pass they did. Rick indicated for Tamahere to approach the larger beach, and within 15 minutes they were unloading the equipment.

Laurent had decided they'd better test the satellite connection before anyone went anywhere else. If something was wrong, they'd need to know now rather than when they were ready to file the story. It took about ten minutes to confirm, but Paris was receiving without issue. One potential glitch, now off the table.

Rick felt like his heart was going to jump out of his body and hurtle down the channel by itself. He paced, agitated, waiting for the zodiac to be ready to launch again.

"Mr. Rodgers, I _will_ be going with you," Laurent stated as he approached the boat. He was carrying a digital camera for stills and a notebook. "You do not have to bring the film crew, but I insist on coming."

Rick might have fought if he hadn't been so apprehensive and jittery. He wanted to be there now, and would brook no further delays. Even if that meant bringing along a journalist.

* * *

"There it is."

Grollet pointed out the window to the east; the island was sliding into view.

It was just past noon, and the sun was unrelentingly bright. Tane felt as though it were far too illuminated for the dark kind of business he was supposed to be completing.

"Pay attention now. Shout if you see anything."

"Sure has steep cliffs. This doesn't look anything like the island that Rodgers described for the press."

"I know. I expect that he was probably lying about the topography of the island, to throw people off who might want to go find it."

"I'm not sure this one looks like it would support a fieldmouse, let alone two humans for ten years," Tane remarked. They hadn't yet overflown the island, but if the steep walls were any indication, this would be a very hard place to survive for weeks, let alone years.

"It opens up past the cliffs, according to the satellite imagery."

Tane just grunted. He had his doubts.

As they slid over the sea walls and more of the island was revealed, Tane realized his mistake. It did flatten out past those forbidding cliffs. There was a lush forest beneath them.

"Look! Over there!"

Craning his head to see what it was that Grollet had so excited, Tane saw a large expanse of blue in the middle of the island. There was a lake or lagoon of some sort, and on one side…there appeared to be some buildings.

They had found it.

* * *

January, 2001

"..Eight..Nine..Ten. Ok, relax, babe. You're doing great."

Kate was drenched in sweat. It was running off of her in rivulets. She'd never worked so hard in her life.

"Cloth," she gasped, but Rick had already anticipated her need and was holding a wet, cool cloth up to her forehead before she finished the word.

"You're doing so well, Kate. You've moved the baby down very well. Won't be long now."

"It doesn't feel like anything's changed," she complained, taking a moment to breakdown a little. She'd been pushing for what seemed like years; the pain in her pelvis felt as though she were splitting herself in two.

"No, it has. The baby has moved. Here, I'll help you see," Rick stated, moving away to grab some water. "Here, let me wash your hands," he insisted.

"What? What are you doing?" she sputtered, as he grabbed her hands and washed them for her.

Setting the water aside, he helped move her even more upright than she'd been.

"How's that?"

"Ok, but how are you going to show me anything? We don't have a mirror."

"Give me your hand, Kate." Complying, she did. He then showed her how she could feel the baby's head, now just shy of making its exit to the world at large. "See, Kate? Not much longer at all."

* * *

April, 2010

Shoving the Zodiac off from the beach, Rick was surprised he got wet before hopping in. He felt like he was floating some two feet in the air.

They'd left Loison, Guilbert and Salesi on the beach. The AFP men were preparing their cameras, ready at a moment's notice to begin filming. The home office was now anxiously awaiting their raw story. Laurent had promised them it would be a matter of a few hours. Rick prayed he was right.

Tamahere had him guide them into the channel behind the cleft. The other two men were amazed by the sight.

"I can't believe you went into this thing on a rickety raft without knowing what lay past it," Tamahere exclaimed.

"Wait until you see what lies beyond," Rick grinned. It was strange being in the channel with the echoes of the engine that propelled them reverberating off the cliffs, instead of the soft slide of an oar. They were once again at minimal power, but in the close confines of the channel it sounded as though they were at mid-throttle.

Rick watched in glee as the overhanging vines that marked the boundary of the lake approached. He had no awareness of the awe in the other's eyes as they took in the lush vegetation contrasted with the azure water; his focus was straight ahead, past the veil of vegetation.

As they broke through the curtain and into bright sunlight once again, Rick's eyes immediately went to the far shore where Pereora was located. He could see his old dock, with the outrigger canoe tied to it. He was home.

* * *

January, 2001

"…And ten. Keep pushing if you want to, Kate."

She did. Just for another second.

"He's crowning. Can you feel his head?"

She nodded. Too exhausted for talk, she gathered herself for the next few pushes. Being able to feel the baby's head at her perineum was a big help. It gave her a place to focus her pushing onto.

Feeling another contraction begin, she gulped in a deep breath.

"Ok, Kate. I'm going to help stretch you around his head. Keep up a nice steady push," Rick said, as she bore down.

She could feel the difference, this time. What had seemed like hours of work with little progress was suddenly turned into the work of mere minutes.

"Almost there, Kate. Just a little more...that's it! Ok, relax for a second, his head's out."

Feeling down, she touched her baby's face for the first time. It was a surreal moment. She was exhausted, but the moment she felt his head outside of her gave her a jolt of energy.

"I just need to clear the nose and mouth real quick, ok?"

Rick used a flexible, hollow bamboo shoot to suction out the baby's airways.

"Ok, sweetheart. Are you ready to deliver our baby? Just a push or two and we'll meet him or her."

* * *

April, 2010

The tapping on his shoulder interrupted his joyful regard of Pereora.

"What?" he snapped, turning to see Tamahere pointing to the near bank. The bank opposite of Pereora.

Looking at the man's outstretched arm, Rick suddenly understood what he was trying to get him to see. The raft, the same that he'd built so many years ago for excursions to the other side of the island, was beached on _this_ side of the lake. She must be gathering food over here.

"Thank you, Tamahere," he apologized. He would have missed it, had his friend not pointed it out. He was so focused on Pereora, everything else was superfluous.

Guiding the Zodiac to the shore near the raft, they beached the boat and cut the engine. Rick jumped out of the boat first, eagerly looking around. He was about to call out her name when he heard footsteps crashing through the dense jungle that grew on this side of the shore.

* * *

January, 2001

"Push…that's it, Kate. I'm just rotating the shoulders," Rick said, as he guided the baby out of his wife. With one last herculean effort, she bore down. With a gush of fluid, their child was delivered safely into his arms. Through his tears, Rick looked down at their baby, who was already protesting this treatment with a lusty cry.

Looking up at his wife, he saw she was crying as well. Placing the baby in her shaking arms, he rejoiced, "It's a boy, Kate. It's a boy.

* * *

April, 2010

Bracing himself for the first sight of his family, Rick stared at the area of the forest where the crashing was rushing towards him. Nervous, excited, scared, thrilled, and terrified by turns, he had to mentally restrain himself from running towards the noise. It wouldn't do to knock them over.

Suddenly a boy of about nine years old burst from the tree line. Upon seeing the strange boat and men standing next to it, he stopped in his tracks. Staring at them, he looked confused and terrified.

Rick felt his knees tremble at the sight of his son. It had only been six months, but it seemed as though he'd grown a foot.

"Alex," he cried out, drawing the boy's attention. "It's me, your dad. I've come back."

* * *

**Thoughts?**


	60. Chapter 60: Home, Sweet Home

**This chapter is dedicated to you. For taking a chance on a fic that begins very differently than the typical fare. For sticking with it over the course of the last 59 chapters, waiting for this moment to arrive. For letting me know that you like what I'm doing, through correspondence with me or favoriting/following the story. For being the awesome reader that you are. Thank you for letting me share my vision with you.**

* * *

April, 2010

The boy stood stock still. Tamahere could see his legs trembling. He was poised to flee, a dove sensing the near invisible sound of a swamp harrier's wings sweeping past.

"Alex," repeated Rick. It's me. Your dad." He remained still, seeing that his son was terrified and unsure of what to do. His reassurances didn't appear to help as Alex tensed, ready to spring away.

"_Stoy_!" Rick commanded in a stern voice. The boy froze. "_Eto tvoy otets_."

The sound of his dad's voice broke through Alex's unresponsiveness. Looking Rick up and down, he appeared confused.

"You sound like my dad, but you don't look like my dad," he pronounced.

"What do you mean? You've forgotten what I looked like, in just six months?" It was Rick's turn to be confused. And more than a little scared. What had happened while he was gone?

"I didn't forget what my dad looked like," Alex exclaimed, affronted. "He didn't look like you."

"How am I different?" Rick wondered.

"My dad had long hair, and lots of hair on his face," Alex began. Rick reached up, and realized that he had gotten a haircut and shaved his beard for the press conference. At the time, he'd wanted to look as much like the old Richard Castle as he could. He'd never considered what he would look like to his children without facial hair. He had some scruff, but nothing like what they would have been used to.

"I cut my hair, and cut away my beard," he explained, knowing Alex wasn't familiar with shaving. He'd had no razor on the island.

"My dad cut his hair here, but it never looked like you do."

"Alex, I was out in a city. Remember how we talked about places with lots of people? They have special tools to cut hair that we don't have here on the island. While I was gone, I had someone cut my hair short. I know it looks different, but it's still me."

"Well, my dad didn't have big black eyes like you do. You all have really funny eyes. My mom and dad 'n us don't have eyes like that."

Rick was quite puzzled by this statement, until he turned to look at Laurent and Tamahere. They were all wearing sun glasses. Alex had never seen a pair before.

Sliding his off his face, Rick heard Alex draw in a hiss as his eyes adjusted to the light.

"These aren't my eyes, Alex. These are glasses. We talked about them a little, remember. These keep the sun out of our eyes, like hats do. You can try them, if you like," he smiled, holding them in his outstretched arm. He let it flop back down a few minutes later when his son still refused to move.

"And 'nother thing. My dad didn't have black and white skin like yours. He had brown skin, like me."

Rick closed his eyes in frustration and pride. His son was quite observant, and not a little suspicious. Reopening them, he looked back at Alex steadily. This was going to be hard to explain.

"The black part is a special kind of clothes, which is why we're all wearing them. The white part is my skin. It's this color because after I left you I was found on our boat and taken to a city, like I said. In that city I was inside—out of the sun—for many, many weeks. When you're not in the sun for a long time, your skin becomes whiter."

"Why were you inside for so long? Didn't you want to be outside?" Alex couldn't imagine not being outside—it was not something he'd ever had to try.

"It's a long story, Alex. It's part of the reason why it took me so long to get back here."

"Who are those people? My dad was all alone when he left here."

"Well, I'd like to introduce you to my friends. This is Tamahere," he explained, indicating the man, who bowed before Alex. "Do you remember me telling you about him?"

"Yes," came the whispered reply. Rick smiled to himself. His son was starting to accept that his father was back.

"This other man is someone I met while I was away in the city. His name is Monsieur Laurent. He's helped me get back here to you guys."

"Is that a boat? Cause it looks really weird."

Rick laughed. The sound of his laughter, so often heard on this island, seemed to do the trick. Alex bounded forward and Rick scooped him up in his arms. Hugging him tight, he just kept repeating, "I've missed you so much, Alex. So, so much."

* * *

Taking a closer look at the boy, Tamahere saw that he was nearly the spitting image of Hopo. Brown hair, highlighted by the sun, hung in wavy lengths around his face. He was dusty and dirty, though that would be from traipsing through the forest. He had piercing blue eyes, just like Hopo. His skinny body was that of a boy not yet grown into a man. He wore a simple loincloth and a large brimmed woven hat had been clutched in one hand until he dropped it as his father lifted him up.

Laurent took some candid shots of the reunion. Tamahere noticed, but said nothing. This level of intrusion was necessary to protect Hopo and his family, whether Rick wanted to acknowledge it or not.

Several minutes passed, as the young boy explored his father's face—long familiar, yet altered. They laughed and cried, hugged and kissed. It was quite moving, but Tamahere began to feel the press of anxiety. They were on a deadline, with no sight of the rest of the family.

Rick finally leaned back a little, making a space between his head and his son's, as he held Alex in his arms. "Alex, where is your mom? Is she with you?"

"Nope," the boy puffed his chest out proudly, "I'm big enough to come on the raft all alone. I was over here getting some more 'nuts and stuff. She an' Patrick an' the baby are still over on t'other side."

Giving his oldest child a tight hug again, Rick turned to the other men. "I'm ready."

He walked towards the Zodiac.

"Are we going to ride in _that_ boat?" Alex asked, excited beyond words.

"Yep. It's a special boat, one that can hold several people, but still goes pretty fast." Rick said.

"What kind of boat is it?" Alex asked, running his hands over the smooth plastic of the inflatable hull after Rick placed him inside.

"It's called a Zodiac, and the hull is made of wood and plastic. The air tubes you're touching are made of a different type of plastic. Now, sit down while we launch the boat."

"But, Dad, what about the raft?" Alex was looking at him with worried eyes. It transported Rick back six months to the last time he'd seen his son, under an echo of the present circumstances. Lost in his memories, Tamahere answered for him.

"Don't worry, Hopotamatoa. We can come and get it later."

* * *

November, 2009

"Are you ready, son?"

"Yessir! Ready for 'Operation: Ocean Voyage.' Rodgers men only."

Rick hid a smile; his oldest was rather enthusiastic. Turning around, he saw Patrick scuffing his foot in the loose rocks along the beach. "Hey, buddy. What's the matter?" he asked, picking up the six year old and giving him a quick kiss.

"Tickles, daddy," Patrick yelled, pushing at Rick's face. "Stop it."

"Tell me why you're sad, and I will."

Patrick gave him a long, dark look. With his brown curls and hazel eyes, he was a true cross between Rick and Kate. A sensitive kid, he got his feelings hurt by his older brother's desire to act more grown up—which meant ditching his kid brother on occasion.

"AJ gets to go. I wanna go, too."

"There will be more trips, and you can go on one of those. This first time is just for Alex."

"It's not fair!" Patrick cried, tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Patrick, but this is what your mother and I decided on." Patrick crossed his arms and stuck out his lower lip in a pout. It was almost cute, but Rick knew better than to laugh at this moment. His middle child was quick to cry, and would not tolerate the thought that they might be laughing at him.

Rick carried the boy away from Kate and the other kids, trying to get a moment alone.

"You know, Patrick, even though you're not going with us, you still have a very important job to do."

His son's eyes, so like Kate's, searched his for a moment, making sure Rick was sincere. "What job?"

"I need you to be the man in charge while I'm gone."

This got Patrick's attention. He'd never been separated from Rick before, so he'd never considered what might happen when his dad was away.

"Man in charge? What do I do?"

"Well, we both know that Mommy doesn't really need Daddy around, right? She can handle pretty much any job. But, the baby is a different story. She needs her big brother Patrick to watch out for her and help your Mom out."

Patrick nodded, thinking about what he would need to do to help his mom watch the baby.

"Ok, Dad. But can I go on the next trip?"

Rick laughed. He was as persistent as his mother, this one. "Yes, Patrick. You'll go on the next trip. Are we ok?"

Seeing the nod from his son, he turned and strode back to the rest of his family.

He set Patrick down, then turned to Kate. Sarah was sleeping, snug in the sling strapped across her mother's front. He leaned down to kiss then baby, then carefully embraced his wife. Years of practice from when the two boys were still tiny enough to be carried in the sling made it possible to hug her tight without waking the baby.

"We'll be back in a few days," he told her, brushing a tear away. "Hey, now, what's this? Why are you crying?"

"I'm just worried. I've not been apart from you in nearly ten years."

"It's gonna be fine. You'll see. Then we can start really planning 'The Great Escape.'"

"Be careful."

"I will, you know I will. I'll see you in a few days, ok?"

She nodded, still miserable. "Ok," she sniffed.

Alex was already positioned in the boat. Rick made his way gingerly down the dock—it wasn't the sturdiest thing he'd ever built. He unmoored it, then jumped aboard.

"Here we go, Captain Rodgers."

"Aye, aye, thank you Seaman Rodgers. Next stop, the ocean."

* * *

Rick made sure Alex's life jacket was secure, then fastened his own. They didn't have any kid sized jackets, of course. He and Kate had made these, using pieces of a Styrofoam cooler that had been broken even before the_ Iriata's_ doomed voyage. He'd grabbed it, thinking it might be handy, but they'd never found a use for it until the kids came along.

They'd broken it into even smaller chunks, put them inside some knit sennit casings, attached dry, hollow bamboo to reinforce it in a few spots, and _voila_, they had serviceable life jackets for the kids.

"You've got your oar?" he asked Alex.

"Yessir."

"Then let's get to paddling."

"Aw, when do we put the sail up?"

"Not until we get out to the ocean, and then not until we get past the rocks. You know that."

"But we've been sailing on the lake."

"Alex, that was just to practice. We didn't go anywhere but around the lake. This'll be different."

"Ok. But I think it would have been cool to use the sail."

"I know buddy, I know."

They were testing out the new boat that they'd built. It had been a family effort. A catamaran in design, it had a single mast and a small enclosed cabin in the stern.

Rick and Kate had seen no signs of any other humans since their initial shipwreck. Now with three kids, and Alex nearing 9, they had agreed it was time to try and find help.

The catamaran had been built over the course of two years. Much of it off and on work, mostly off when Kate was pregnant with Sarah. However, Alex had proven to be a great helper in the last few months, and they'd made a lot of progress. It wasn't done yet, but Rick was ready to try it out on the ocean—see what needed to be tweaked.

He and Kate disagreed about who would be going on the ultimate voyage. He felt that he should go alone, to minimize the risk if something happened to the boat. Kate felt they should go as a family. She'd pointed out that if Rick didn't make it, somehow, that they would be as good as dead without him, since no signs of rescue had ever been seen. Rick disagreed with that opinion, but they'd decided to table the discussion until they were sure the vessel was ready.

Thus, this little 'venture' as Alex called it, had been formed. He'd stocked it with some gourds for water, extra bamboo and sennit for fixing issues as they cropped up. It was very much a shakedown cruise.

Rowing into the channel, Rick grinned at the look of pride on Alex's face. The kid had rowed in the outrigger before, but with both parents. Today, he was an essential crewman.

They carefully navigated through the rocks; safe passage long memorized by Rick, but always meriting close observation. Once out to the safe zone, they stowed the oars and prepared to raise the sail.

Made of many pieces of rough tapa, the sail represented the largest labor investment of the whole ship. Tapa had been the only practical solution for a mainsheet, and Rick knew that there was precedent—the native Polynesians had used tapa for the same purpose, at times. Rick had been pleased with the performance in the island's interior. The stiffer winds of the open ocean might prove to be more of a challenge.

"Ready, Captain?"

"Ready, dad…I mean Sailor."

They hoisted the sail as practiced on the lake. As it filled with air, Rick took the helm. Their speed started increasing. No signs of jittering or listing noted, Rick flashed a big grin at his son, who was standing next to him. They were flying, and it was an incredible feeling.

* * *

Returning to the beach after a few hours of circling the island, tacking and zipping wherever they wanted, Rick felt quite pleased with the craft they'd put together. There were some minor things to be addressed, but overall things had gone well. He was even beginning to rethink his stance on going alone.

They partially beached the boat, utilizing a rock anchor to keep it in place at high tide in the night.

Jumping off, Rick helped Alex unpack the items they needed. Alex then went fishing for their dinner, while Rick set up the shelter. The kid was a better fisherman than he was; one benefit of growing up knowing how to swim before he could walk.

They went to bed at sundown, planning to be up at sunrise. They would make some of the repairs, then take her out again.

"You know, dad, the boat needs to have a name," Alex said as they prepared for bed.

"Good point. Do you have any picked out?"

"Not yet. Maybe we'll think of one tomorrow."

"That's an idea, but remember, we need to include mom and Patrick in the decision. We can't just name her without them."

"Her?! Why's it a girl? Why can't it be a boy?"

"Well, traditionally all ships are referred to as she. Even if they have a name that is a boy's name, they're called she."

"That's weird, dad."

"Yeah, well, I didn't make the rules, Alex. It's just the way it has always been."

"Night, dad."

"Night, Alex."

Weeks later, he would finally decide on a name, though alone as circumstances turned out.

He called it 'Rick's Folly.'

* * *

He was awakened in the middle of the night by a peal of thunder and the onset of a downpour. The tarps that served as their temporary shelter covering had, through the years, become worn. They were not the most comfortable accommodations, but he'd resisted building something permanent as he was sure the constant buffeting by the onshore winds would necessitate constant repair.

Alex was awake too. His kids weren't afraid of storms—they were a fact of life on an island in the tropics. However, he was getting dripped on by a hole in the tarp.

"Here, Alex, come over here to my side. It's drier. I'm gonna go check the boat real quick."

Rising out of the shelter, he was soaked through in a few steps. It was coming down in buckets. As he neared the spot where they'd anchored the boat, he could see something was wrong—she appeared to be adrift in the lagoon surrounding the island. He could barely make her out in the dark. His heart sank. This boat represented several years of work for his family. Running back to the shelter, he yelled for Alex.

"What is it, dad?" Alex's eyes were huge.

"It's the boat. It's loose in the lagoon, but I think the stone anchor is still attached. I'm gonna swim out to it."

"Should I come too?"

"Absolutely not! You wait here. If something happens, wait for your mom. She'll realize there's something wrong after a few days and come looking for us."

"But, dad…"

"No buts. It'll be fine. But know this, Alex. I love you very much. Just like I love your mom, and Patrick and Sarah."

"I love you too, daddy."

Giving him a hug, Rick jogged back to the shore. He could just see the ship out in the lagoon. It wasn't actually that far away, which was why he figured the stone anchor was still attached. Otherwise, it might have been halfway to Tahiti by now.

Taking a fix on the location, he dove in. The tide was going out, which would be a problem for rowing back alone. However, it wasn't insurmountable.

He swam for perhaps ten minutes before catching sight of her much closer. Setting out, he reached her and clambered aboard. She was rocking hard against something, and he soon saw there was a major problem—the anchor had been dragged with the ship, and now had the boat positioned next to a pinnacle of rock. She had already bashed against it several times.

Drawing his knife, he cut away the anchor. The boat spun partially, throwing him against the wall of the cabin. Staggering up, he reached for one of the oars. He turned, trying to decide which would be the best side to row from.

Unfortunately, he forgot about the boom. Though no sail was in play, it was swinging with the pitch of the boat. In the dark, it moved nearly invisibly. The resulting collision sent him unconscious to the deck.

He wouldn't wake up for several hours.

By that time, he was hopelessly lost.

* * *

April, 2010

Tane ducked as he ran away from the chopper and its propellers. Turning once he was a safe distance, he waited for Grollet to catch up.

They had landed about fifty meters from the structures they'd seen from the air, in a clearing next to the lake. The tree line swallowed the buildings; they were invisible from the ground. However, he knew the direction. They would not be difficult to find.

Grollet stood looking at the point where the buildings were hidden. This was it, the culmination of a furious few weeks of phone calls, discussions, capitulations, and threats. It was show time.

They started walking together, neither saying a word. Once they were some distance from the helicopter, Tane stopped. Wordlessly, he opened the small duffel he carried and extracted his gun. Spinning the cylinder, he ensured there were rounds in each chamber. Nodding to Grollet again, they resumed walking.

The gun was stuffed into the back of his pants. No sense in letting them know he had a weapon straight away.

The island was quiet—eerily so. Reflecting that the birds had probably been scared off by the chopper, he decided to ignore it. Though, he did wonder where the people were. They had no reason to fear a helicopter landing on their otherwise deserted island—as far as he knew. It seemed…off. Like the rest of this trip.

Reaching the trees, they could now see the buildings just through the screen of leaves. Grollet nodded at Tane, and he stepped through, listening and looking for any signs of another human. Nothing happened.

Alert for a trap, he pulled his gun, taking off the safety. He approached the largest building, concentrating on making himself as small a target as possible. It was a ramshackle construction, made of plywood and bits and pieces of other materials, all thrown together in a haphazard fashion. Reaching the closed door, he closed his eyes for a second, before kicking it down and bursting through.

Grollet watched in approval as Tane forced entry into the largest building. A tense second passed, before he suddenly heard two shots ring out. Dropping to the floor of the jungle, he wondered what the hell was going on in the building, and who was firing.

Seeing Tane walk out a minute later, apparently unharmed, was a real relief. The other man was so distracted by his ordeal that he didn't seem to notice that Henri was sprawled on the ground.

"What happened? Did you shoot them? Are they dead?"

Tane looked embarrassed. "Not….exactly."

"What was all that shooting then?"

"Well, I did get off two rounds."

"At who?"

"It wasn't…exactly…a who."

"What does that mean? Were there people in there, or not?"

"People used to be here. However, if you take a closer look around, I think you'll see that the place seems to have been abandoned."

Looking wildly around, Grollet saw he was right.

"Then what in heaven's name were you shooting at?"

"Umm, let's just say something startled me out of the corner of my eye. I thought it was someone trying to sneak up on me, but…well, it wasn't."

"What was it?"

"amus," he mumbled.

"Eh? What? Speak up, man!"

"Fine. It was a mouse, ok? Some sort of rodent. Fast little sucker, too."

"No people?"

"No people," he confirmed. "I think you picked the wrong island."

"But, they have to be here. They have to."

"Well, they aren't. And we're out of fuel to keep searching. We have to return to Capitaine Tissot's ship. You've doomed us."

That was when Grollet made a huge mistake. In his white hot fury, without a target to spend it on, he instead turned on Tane.

"It's the right place, you need to keep looking," he screamed, launching a flurry of fists at his underling.

For a man who'd been privy to so many secrets through the years, Tane wasn't especially loyal to a man whose kingdom was about to crash down on him. Especially after being attacked by the man.

One good strike to the jaw and Grollet went down like a sack of potatoes. The punches he'd thrown at Tane, by contrast, didn't even leave a bruise.

Tane strode away, leaving Grollet face down in the dirt. Strolling out of the trees, he motioned for the copter to warm up again. As he settled into his seat a few minutes later, the pilot seemed puzzled.

"President Grollet is taking part in a top secret conference. He will be picked up from here shortly, but we must leave if we expect to get back to the Navy ship in time."

The pilot was used to taking orders from Tane, as well as Grollet. He wasn't going to argue against either; he liked his job.

Thus, the beginning of the end of Grollet's Presidential term began, with his stranding on a desert island. The irony was not lost on the man who left him there.

* * *

Alex was enthralled with the boat. "What do you mean we don't hafta row? How're we gonna get across?"

The firing of the engine both scared and intrigued him. By the time they were halfway across the lake, curiosity had overcome fear, and Alex was firing off multiple observations and inquiries.

He had a million questions, and while Rick would usually be happy to try and answer them, right now he was concentrating on looking for his wife.

Tamahere was pressed into answering some of the rapid fire remarks made by the boy, while Laurent took some snapshots of the approaching lakeshore, as well as the aspects of Pereora that he could see.

Rick jumped out of the boat before they were beached.

"Hey, dad! Whatcha doin'?" Alex started to follow, but was stopped by Tamahere's gentle hand.

"This is for your mom and dad, Hopotamatoa. Let's stay back for a minute."

"Why do you keep calling me that? My name is Alex, but Patrick calls me AJ."

"Ah, well. You see, your dad is known to me as Hopo. And tamatoa means 'child of a chief', so Hopotamatoa is a fitting name for you, too."

Alex nodded. He wasn't sure he understood, but he knew that his parents didn't always make sense to him. Apparently all adults were similarly confusing.

* * *

"Kate! Kate!" He didn't know where to go first—the house? The orchard? Somewhere else?

Deciding on the house, he jogged in that direction, head swiveling from place to place in a frantic attempt to see her.

As he approached the house, he could hear the happy chatter of Patrick and the babbling of Sarah. The sound of water splashing explained why she hadn't answered him—someone was getting a shower. She must not have heard him shouting.

Coming through the trees, he was brought to a sudden stop by the sight of his beautiful wife caring for his two youngest. He noted with surprise how much bigger they both appeared; Sarah was now walking unsteadily.

Rick had spent months envisioning this moment; a dream that had played out in his head constantly. Yet, the time had finally arrived and he found himself unable to move, or even say anything at all. Overcome by the weight of emotions, he sank as if in quicksand to his knees, gaze never wavering from the sight of his family in front of him.

He must have made a noise, as Kate's head snapped up and their eyes met across the clearing.

Time stood still.

"Kate," he breathed. "Kate!" He fell forward onto his hands, overwhelmed by the pain of missing her for so long.

She stood, staring. Unable to process what she was seeing, that it was no mirage. The only evidence that she was still breathing was the whisper that just reached his ears, through the clearing.

"Rick!"


	61. Chapter 61: Always

**This chapter is dedicated to caffinate-me. Yep, again. What I said about her in the dedication for Chapter 21 still holds: I am honored that an author of her caliber likes what I'm doing here. However, today's dedication is for all that she does for the writing community in general. We new writers are very lucky to have all the resources that are available to us, none more important than the voice of experience. She has been very encouraging to me over the course of this fic, and I appreciate all that she's done. Thank you!**

**Special shout out to Garrae, who kept telling me something was off about the beginning of this chapter. I must have re-written it 3 or 4 times, until I got it to where I wanted it. You are the best, friend!**

* * *

April, 2010

He lurched back to his feet immediately. He'd dreamt of this moment for months, and would brook no concessions to overwhelming emotions until she was in his arms. He had to know she was real, that everything he'd endured, everything they'd been through, was real. One touch of her body, and he would be reassured. One touch would make him.

She moved towards him at the same time. Legs made unsteady by the shattering emotions pouring through her veins, still they propelled her forward. He'd come back to her. He'd returned. Just as they'd promised each other those many years before. Nothing could keep them apart.

Their eyes were locked; neither could see anyone or anything else. He couldn't look away from her—drawn in, as inexorable as a siren's call. And he, like the men of mythology, never wanted to leave her presence again.

Pulled together, two halves completing a whole. He couldn't look away from her eyes, which had always revealed her emotions to him once he learned how to read the messages that poured from them. Those beautiful, marvelous eyes. How he had missed looking into them. Seeing his love for her reflected back at him. Her fascinating eyes.

"Kate," he whispered again as they drew together, close enough to embrace but still not touching. Neither wanted to break this magical spell, still disbelieving that the moment they'd been praying for, thinking of nearly every waking and dreaming second, was at hand. He reached a trembling finger up to her cheek and caressed her face. The touch, this physical proof of reality, broke the doubt that had assailed both of them.

She fell into his arms, and he pulled her tight. Wrapping himself around her as if to absorb her into him so they'd never be parted again. Both their strength failed, and he sank to the ground pulling her into his lap much as he had the day he'd found her crying so long ago on the lakeshore over her dead mother.

Desperate sobs were the only sounds she made, as Rick buried his head into her hair. Smelling her, touching her, caressing her. Nothing else in the world mattered. She was alive.

She was alive.

They'd made it.

* * *

"I love you, Kate. I love you so much." He repeated it over and over, a mantra whispered into her hair as he rocked her while she cried noiseless tears into his chest. She clutched at him, gripping her hands around his neck when she couldn't find purchase to hold any piece of the skin tight suit that he still wore.

He felt her shift, and she slowly leaned back enough to see his face again. Her eyes were red, still tear filled, but she was no longer sobbing. She still hadn't said anything beyond the whispered sound of his name when she'd first seen him. However, no words were necessary. He could see the various questions in those incredible eyes as they stared at him. By turns he saw wonderment, anger, worry, desire, and concern flick through them. Underlying it all, though, was her love for him.

"I'm so sorry, Kate. So sorry," he pleaded, hoping she'd understand. He'd never intended to leave her the way he had, or to take so long getting back to her.

She reached up and placed a finger over his mouth, effectively hushing him for the moment. Once he'd swallowed his words, she traced his lips, then moved over the rest of his face with her finger. It was a gently exploration, feather-light, but he knew it was her way of reassuring herself he _was_ there. That he was ok.

"You're really here? After all this time?" she breathed. He nodded, afraid to break his silence now that she'd found her voice again.

"What happened? Why so long?" she demanded, growing tenser in her pose. It was a question he'd known would be coming. Knowing she'd ask it was one thing; answering it was quite another.

"Alex told you what happened on our trip? How the storm had come up?" he asked, unable to tear his eyes from hers.

She nodded, tears welling up again as she thought back to the initial panic and fear of those days months ago.

"It was so stupid, but I just couldn't let the boat be carried away. We'd spent so much time, invested so much labor and blood into its creation. I never imagined that I couldn't save it. I woke up many hours later with a lump on my head and no island in sight from any direction. I had no idea where I was, but I knew I'd get back to you. That I'd do whatever it took to find you."

"I was so scared for you, but I knew in my heart you were still alive. I could still feel you, here," she responded, taking one of his hands in hers and moving it to her chest. Over her heart. "I knew you'd come. I remembered what you said."

He didn't even need to ask what she meant. He knew. "Every night that I could, I looked up at those stars and asked them to let you know I was ok. That I would find you. That you had to be strong and hang on."

She just smiled at him, a small, tight one at first. Then, as he grinned back at her, it grew until it was the smile he'd been longing to see again for months. The smile she gave only to him.

He basked in the glow of her love for a moment, then could wait no longer. Lowering his head, he touched his lips to hers. A kiss of thankfulness. Of his joy at finding her. Tender at first, then more and more demanding as they both poured their love and desire for the other into it. How they'd missed the other, so many months apart. How they'd never given up, each knowing the other would fight until the end for this reunion. And now it was here. And it was just the two of them….

"Mom, mom, mom," the high pitched seven year old voice of their middle child intruded.

They broke the kiss at the same time, then smiled at each other briefly. They were ok; they were together again. Turning her head, Kate looked back toward the house. Patrick was jumping about from foot to foot, still shouting her name repeatedly.

Before she could say anything, Rick answered for her. "Patrick, do you remember who I am?"

Patrick stilled for a second, contemplating his response. Kate's eyes automatically searched for and found the baby. Sarah was now sitting, watching her big brother as he had danced on the porch.

"You're Dad, though you look funny."

"I'm back, Patrick. Come give me a hug."

Before the last words of the invitation were issued, the boy was off the porch and dashing towards them. Kate braced herself for the impact of the flying legs and elbows as Patrick launched himself into their bubble.

"Oh, Patrick, I've missed you all so much," Rick gasped, hugging his son and wife tight.

"Missed you too, daddy," boomed Patrick. "Where did all the hair on your face go?"

Rick grinned widely, and saw Kate giving him a studious look. "You've never seen me so close shaven either, have you?" he exclaimed.

Shaking her head no, Kate waited for his explanation to their curious son.

Rick carefully extracted himself from Patrick's clutch and lifted Kate off his lap gently. "Let's go get Sarah. I haven't gotten to say hi to her yet."

As they stood, he and Kate both grabbed each other's hand at the same time, entwining their fingers. Neither was ready for a physical separation, not after so much time apart.

"She's gotten so big," Rick exclaimed as they stepped up onto the porch. Sarah had been only 7 months old when he'd been swept away. He swallowed the lump in his throat that rose up when he reflected on how many things he'd missed from her short life. Releasing Kate's hand, he bent down and scooped her up off the floor.

"Look at all your hair," he marveled. Like her brothers, she had curly hair, though hers was darker than either Patrick or Alex's light brown mops. She regarded him with sober eyes for a moment, then looked over at her mother.

"Sarah," he crooned. "It's me. Your daddy."

She stared for another few seconds, clearly unable to place the strange man. The quivering lower lip heralded her feelings before she burst into loud tears and reached for Kate. Rick was disappointed, but not surprised. He had been missing for nearly half her life. She'd not remember him, and having not had any other grown men around her, he would be a mystery.

"Daddy, I remember you," cried Patrick. He was standing on his toes, bouncing again next to Rick. Swinging him up into his arms, Rick laughed at him as Sarah watched them suspiciously from Kate's arms.

"Were you good for your mother while I was gone?"

The boy's head nodded vigorously. "Uh huh. I helped with Sarah and I was the one in charge of getting fruit from the orchard. It was a real 'portant job."

"I'll bet it was," Rick grinned, tousling Patrick's curls.

"Why were you gone so long? Mommy said you'd come back, but sometimes AJ n' I heard her crying at night. She was sad you were gone. I was too, Daddy."

"Patrick, I came here just as soon as I could," Rick explained. He was speaking to his son, but the words were directed at Kate as much as they were to the boy. "I was lost in the ocean, on the boat for a long, long time. Then, when I was found by a big boat, I was sick and couldn't remember even who I was for a little while."

Kate gasped, then sought his hand again and squeezed it tight. She knew it was likely even worse than how it sounded, as Rick would gloss over the truly horrible parts for the sake of Patrick. She would get a more detailed report later.

"After I got better and remembered who I was, well, things got complicated."

Kate was still staring at him, her eyes locked with his as she wondered what on earth that meant, when she heard Patrick struggling in Rick's arms.

"Easy, buddy. Do you want down?" Rick asked absently, still focused on his wife.

"Look, Daddy. There's AJ, and he's found two more people."

* * *

"I wish they would call. I don't understand why it's taking so long," Martha fretted. She was pacing back and forth in Jim's hotel room. They'd met there as they knew it wasn't bugged and because they were less likely to encounter press.

"Martha, you have to give them time. Even if everything went perfectly, you know that they would have only been on the island for an hour or two. They'll call. It's going to be alright." Jim wished he could believe his words. They sounded hollow, even to him.

The fact was they had absolutely no idea what was going on: whether Katie or the kids were alive. Whether Grollet had interfered, somehow. It was so hard to be on this end of the event. The waiting was going to drive them mad. Not knowing. Helpless to assist in any meaningful way.

His ringtone for Celeste filled the air. Lunging for his phone, he prayed for good news.

"Hi, sweetie," her bubbly voice warmed his heart.

"Hi, honey. How are you?"

"Everything is fine here, Jim. Hope you and Martha are holding up ok. Listen, the AFP liaison just called me. Paris received a transmission from the rescue team about an hour ago. They'd landed on one of the outside beaches of the island and were preparing to make their way to the interior shortly afterwards. Everything was going to plan, at the time."

Jim slumped down in relief. So far so good, though there was still no word on whether his daughter was alive or dead.

"Jim, are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here, Celeste," he muttered.

"They promised me they'd let me know once more footage came in—once Katie is safe with Richard."

"Ok, honey. Call me back as soon as you hear anything."

Promising to do so, Celeste hung up after telling him how much she loved him. "As soon as everything falls into place here in New York, I'm coming your way," she told him.

He needed her, felt as though he was incomplete without her presence to share the doubts and recriminations that seemed to dominate his thoughts these days. The anxiety over Katie was nearly all consuming, but what was left over was not pleasant memories. It was a litany of all he'd done wrong to put Katie in such danger to begin with.

"They've landed on the outer part of the island," he reported to Martha after his final goodbye to his wife.

"Oh, thank goodness. Any second now we'll hear about how Richard has found her. I'm sure of it, Jim. I can feel it in my heart, darling."

Jim nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Martha was Martha: a great friend and consummate actress. However, she knew her son was ok. Had hugged him tight and kissed his cheeks. She had tangible evidence that he was alive. Jim had only his hope and the trust he placed in Richard to be able to find her. Faith that she was ok.

She had to be ok.

* * *

Meredith was seething. She'd been in this agitated state ever since Kelsey Webb had called her to ask for her opinion on Katherine Beckett. Meredith hadn't had much of an answer. The name was vaguely familiar, but she didn't know who Webb was talking about, or why she ought to have an opinion about the woman.

When Kelsey explained that this Katherine person had been on the ship with Rick, Meredith was unmoved. Her admittedly vague knowledge of the shipwreck was that there had been several people on the ship. Some had been rescued, such as the delightful Henri. Rick had been presumed dead, as were the remaining people—she wasn't sure how many there had been, and she didn't care. They were of no concern to her.

No concern, that is, until Kelsey point blank asked her if Katherine Beckett had survived. If she'd been with Rick. Meredith had been shocked and alarmed. She'd denied the whole idea as preposterous and had hung up as quickly as possible—not a typical response for her in dealing with the press.

Meredith did not like deep thinking. The shallow decisions she needed to make about her presentation—involving clothes, shoes, and the like—required little of her. The planning and execution of her plan to win Rick and gain press had been quite possibly the most serious formulation she'd devised in her entire life.

This aversion to contemplation explained a small part of her foul mood as she debated the veracity of Kelsey Webb's information and the possibility that the reporter was on to something. If so, that would mean that Rick had been lying to her this whole time. Not that he'd fallen into her arms, by any means, but he certainly hadn't mentioned that anyone else had survived with him.

Problem was, Rick wasn't around for her to confront him on the subject. She marched up to Martha's room that night, but the annoying woman wasn't in her room either. As she'd paced back and forth in the hallway outside the Rodgers' suite, she'd been forced to do more thinking. Logical conclusions were not a prerequisite of any sort for her job, and she found it difficult to bend her brain into a pattern of thought that she'd normally never use.

Whatever else she might be, no one would ever accuse Meredith Harper of being lackadaisical when it came to pursuing something that interested her. Thus, as she stalked the hall, she realized there was another avenue of information open to her despite the absence of Rick and his mother. Two avenues, really.

Which is how she managed to surprise Paula and Gina by pounding on their suite door last night. Paula had answered; Gina appeared to be in deep conversation on her phone, pacing back and forth. She hardly gave Meredith a glance, which irritated Meredith even further. No one ignored her. No one.

"Whadya want, Meredith?" Paula brayed.

"Do you know where Rick or Martha is right now? I need to talk to them."

"Who? Rick or Martha?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Whatsit about?"

"Nothing to do with you," she retorted. '_Bitch_'. She kept that sentiment to herself.

Paula, either surprised at the vitriol unmasked by Meredith's usual sickly sweet demeanor or by the fact that she honestly didn't know the location of Rick or Martha, was silent for a few seconds. A silence broken by Gina, who was speaking with more agitation than when Meredith had arrived.

"You have to approve more money. This is going to be huge. I'm telling you, everyone was excited with Rick's return to begin with, but if I'm right about this, it's going to be astronomical. We have to jump on it before other offers pour in."

This line of discussion was too much like what Kelsey Webb had been implying for Meredith to ignore. Turning to glare at Paula, she drew herself up in as haughty a manner as possible.

"Who is _she_ talking to?"

"No one important. I don't know where the Rodgers are right now. But I'm sure there are some reporters hanging out near the hotel bar. Why don't you go walk past them a few times?" Paula sneered. She tried to close the door, but was stopped by Meredith sticking her Miu Miu clad foot in the door. She loved these shoes, but sacrifices would have to be made to gain her objective.

Paula, stunned at Meredith's intransigence, was easily overcome by the redhead as she bulled her way through the door. Gina, finally realizing there was a real confrontation brewing, snapped a few more words into the phone before putting it down and turning to oppose Meredith's further entrance.

"Just what are you doing here? What do you want?" the blond snapped. She'd not had a very satisfactory discussion with Black Pawn, and her irritation was heightened by the appearance of this press whore.

"Where is Rick, and don't try and tell me that you don't know where he is. He's with Katherine Beckett, isn't he?

The accusation rang in the air and confounded both Paula and Gina.

"Ho…what do you know about Kate Beckett?" the blonde finally managed.

Meredith had played it close to the vest, and threatened to discuss the issue further with the press if Martha or Rick wasn't produced soon. It had been a bluff, but was an effective one. This was how Meredith had ended up in Jim Beckett's hotel room last night, accompanied by Paula and Gina.

All involved realized it was far too late to deny the issue. Jim and Martha had explained that Rick had not survived alone, after all. That Jim's daughter had been living with him this whole time. That Rick was going after her, which was why he was missing.

Left unsaid was whether there was a relationship between the two survivors. However, Meredith was no fool. A man doesn't get out of prison and then spend all of his newly found freedom going after a fellow castaway unless there was more to the partnership than mere fellow survivors.

Thus, in the light of the day, despite hours of restless debate, Meredith found herself still at a loss as to what to do. She was very angry—at Rick, at this Katherine, at Martha and all the rest. They'd played her like a fool.

Most of all, she was worried she'd spent all that money rushing here and in the end would be left empty handed. Sure, she'd had some good press, but the biggest stories would center on Rick. Without him to anchor her place, she would be forgotten. Hell, even the interview she'd given to People would never be printed if all that she claimed was proven…inaccurate.

As she considered her tenuous position once again, Meredith ran through the options as she saw them. She'd invested too much to give up now. She thought about what it might have been like to be stranded away from all modern conveniences for ten years. Jim and Martha had stressed that Rick had confided that he'd built a house out of bamboo and they'd foraged for fruits and fished.

She'd seen pictures of Rick just after his rescue. It had been shocking to see how thin and wild looking he'd been. Suddenly, she realized that Katherine Beckett couldn't look much better. No salon available. Working with her hands just to survive. Exposed to the unrelenting sun for years. It was unimaginable.

Katherine Beckett had no chance. Rick probably just felt guilty for leaving her behind. Once she was rescued and he saw how hideous she looked, he was sure to come running back to Meredith. Plus, she had a ring from him. If nothing else, it could be wielded as a weapon in the war for his affections. He'd wanted to marry her, once. And she would use every tool in her repertoire to win him back.

Not used to thinking logically, she forgot to pursue several key facts to their end, and so had no response to temper harsh reality when it was later thrust upon her.

Such as exactly how she'd come into possession of her engagement ring.

* * *

Alex raced across the clearing to the house. He wasn't exactly scared of the two strange men—after all, he'd grown up hearing stories about Tamahere from his dad—but he wasn't comfortable in their presence without his parents, either.

Rick turned to Kate, apology on the tip of his tongue. "Kate, I got here with the help of Tamahere and many other people. The other man's name is Marcel Laurent. It will all make better sense once you've heard my story."

Kate watched as the other two men paused at the edge of the clearing, watching the family completely reunited as Alex joined them. She wasn't surprised that there were others with Rick—he would have recruited help for the rescue wherever he had ended up landing.

She _was_ surprised that Tamahere was part of the rescue party, though it did make some sense on a certain level. He and Rick had been friends as well as crewmates; it was natural to trust someone like that.

It was both a relief and a shock to see these men. She'd spent so many years with only her own little family; two new people seemed overwhelming. So much of the time of her early days on the island had been spent praying and looking for a rescue. Now that the moment was upon her she found herself frozen in place.

The two men had picked their way through the clearing to the front porch while she considered them. They stood, awkwardly, at the bottom step, staring up at the reunited family. The boys stared back, copying their mother's look unintentionally. Only Rick seemed at ease.

"Tamahere, you remember Kate from our ill-fated voyage."

Tamahere nodded, relaying with his open countenance the fact that he did remember her as well as how happy he was to see her again.

"And M. Laurent, this is my wife, Kate. Gentlemen, you've met Alex already, but now let me also introduce my son Patrick and my daughter Sarah."

Everything seemed to be going so well, from Rick's point of view. His family was healthy. He was with them again. And, soon they'd all be safe from the machinations of Henri Grollet. He wanted to pinch himself, make sure he was awake and not dreaming. That it really was happening, and it was real.

However, pinching himself became moot at that moment. Kate did it for him. Hard.

"Hey, what was that…" he protested, looking at Kate and seeing—hostility?—in her eyes.

Click.

His attention caught by the sound, he swung his head towards the noise.

Click.

That's when he saw Laurent was busy snapping pictures of everything and everyone.

"Rick," hissed Kate. "What is he doing?"

Click.

* * *

**Thank you all so much for all your wonderful reviews over the last chapters. You've truly made my days lighter!**

**The next few chapters will bring an end to their time on the island, but there is much more to come as I begin to explore their reintroduction (or introduction, for the kids) into modern society after 10 years away. Unfortunately, we have basically caught up to where I had pre-written. I had intended to spend my week of vacation writing ahead again, but the arrival of the parents turned that idea on its head.**

**In my initial discussions about writing a very long fic, people indicated by an enormous majority that they preferred one big story (i.e. no end here with a sequel to follow). This is fine, but I simply cannot maintain this frequency of posting now that we've caught up. So, would you prefer a break for me to do some writing ahead? Or prefer a much more relaxed posting frequency?**

**I will post a poll on my profile page for you to answer if you don't want to contact me directly. I have no specific preference right now, though I will warn you that this fall is going to be very busy for me from a professional standpoint.**


	62. Chapter 62 Let Me Tell You a Story, Kate

**This chapter is dedicated to tracy45. Thanks for all the nice comments and the support. I'm very fortunate to have so many wonderful readers, and I am very grateful for all the great people that I've met through this fic.**

* * *

April, 2010

Click.

"Why does he have a camera, and why is he taking pictures of us?" Kate fumed at Rick.

Click. Rick winced, and glared at Laurent, who just continued to frame his shots and snapped away freely.

Click, click, click.

Kate grasped Rick's arm in a pincer grip and dragged him into the open door of the house, where they couldn't be seen clearly. She still had Sarah in her arms, while he had Patrick. Alex came as far as the doorframe, but stood as if on guard, watching the strange men doing strange things.

"What is going on, Rick, and why does that man have a camera?"

"Kate, love, it's a long story and to be honest I have very little time to tell it to you. Laurent is a reporter, for the Agence France Presse, and he is taking pictures of the rescue."

Rick knew this was unlikely to be welcome news to his wife; he was not wrong.

"A reporter?" she barked. "What on earth would possess you to bring a reporter to the island? And you're letting him take pictures? We have no clothes left, in case you hadn't noticed. This is not the time to be taking pictures."

The boys were nearly naked, with small knit wraps covering their genitals. Sarah was completely naked, while Kate…well, she was wearing what could loosely be termed a bikini. It was a covering she'd devised some years ago: easy to knit, comfortable to wear in the hot, humid climate. She often went without a top, especially when she was nursing. Rick was thankful she'd chosen to wear one today, or else she would likely have been even more embarrassed. And he would have been in much, much deeper trouble.

"Kate, you need to listen to what we have to tell you. Why don't we all go to the kitchen and sit and discuss it? There really is a very good reason I brought a reporter, and I think you'll understand if you just give me a chance to explain."

Looking at his earnest demeanor, she sighed and relented. "I know you wouldn't just spring this kind of thing on me if you could avoid it. I can't fathom what the issue will be, but I'll listen."

He leaned over and kissed her again. "I love you so much. I wish I had time to gather you in my arms and hold you for hours, but time is not on our side. We _must_ hurry, or disaster may follow. I don't want to scare you, but it's imperative that you understand how this whole rescue hinges on a moment in time."

The scared look in his eyes was all she needed; he was terrified that even now that he was here on the island with her, with their children, that it somehow wouldn't be enough. That a perverted form of the sword of Damocles yet hung over them, even in their happiest moment.

"Monsieur Rodgers," Laurent called from the edge of the porch. "We must make haste. Time is rapidly slipping away from us."

Kate's eyebrow quirked up. "I guess I'd best hear what you have to say."

They walked back out onto the porch. Alex was still unabashedly staring at the strangers; he was very puzzled by what the man with the black box was doing when he lifted it up to his face and made a clicking noise. His mother had called it a camera, which he'd learned about at some point. It made something called pictures, but he'd never really believed such a thing, as described by his parents, was possible. A perfect reproduction of a scene? It was too fantastic to imagine.

"Gentlemen, I propose we discuss why we are in such a rush with my wife in the kitchen. We can have some juice and perhaps some fruit while we talk."

Kate nodded. "There are some fresh mangos and bananas that Patrick gathered this morning."

"M. Rodgers, Mme. Beckett. I would ask to be allowed to continue to take some photos of the house and the island in general. As you well know, M. Rodgers, there may not be an opportunity to do so for some time, depending on what happens next."

Kate gave Rick a questioning glance. He nodded, acknowledging the logic of the request. "That is fine, M. Laurent. Tamahere and I are the ones who need to provide most of the story, anyway."

"_Merci_. I do not suppose I could request the assistance of one of your sons, to show me around?"

Patrick practically jumped out of Rick's arms, eager to help. Alex was less willing, but when he looked at his parents, he saw that they wanted him to help as well.

"_Vse budet khorosho, Sasha. Pomoshch' brata tvoyego , pozhaluysta_," Kate reassured him, encouraging him to help Patrick.

"Mme. Beckett, you taught your children to speak Russian?" Laurent exclaimed, surprised. He'd not overheard Rick earlier, when he'd spoken to Alex.

"I am married to Rick, so please call me Madame Rodgers, or better yet, Kate. And yes, we have taught them Russian and some French as well. In lieu of school books, we were limited to what we knew well, and I speak Russian fluently. Rick learned as well."

Rick laughed, "Though I am by far the least proficient. It's amazing how quickly children pick up language."

Laurent had pulled out a notebook and was busy writing everything down. Kate's look soured at this obvious display of his profession. Knowing he had to explain it all to her, Rick gently took her hand in his and tilted his head towards the kitchen, beyond the clearing. She nodded, and, still carrying Sarah, drew him with her as they walked off the porch.

"Boys, show Monsieur Laurent around and explain how things work to him," Rick requested. "I hope you, in turn, will explain a bit about what you are doing to them. They obviously haven't been exposed to any technology, since we had none here. But we've discussed things with them. It was just impossible to show them what we meant, and that often led to incomplete understanding on their part."

Laurent thought this over, clearly a bit taken aback by the information. "Hmm, I guess I hadn't thought about how difficult it would be to raise children here and prepare them for what they will find off this island. I will be sure to try and describe all that I do." He gave a grandfatherly smile to the boys. Patrick had already been sold on the whole idea, but Alex found he was curious about what the man would show them as well.

* * *

"So, Tamahere, it's obvious that you survived in the lifeboat. Did the others as well?" Kate inquired after accepting a glass of juice from Rick. Her husband had bustled about the kitchen as if he'd never left, and insisted that she sit in her comfy chair with Sarah while he and Tamahere grabbed two of the stools.

Sarah started fussing that moment, wanting fed. Kate automatically put her to breast, not even thinking twice about nursing. When she looked up, she suddenly remembered that she was no longer alone with her family. "Oh, goodness, I never even thought to ask..." Her face was burning with embarrassment. Tamahere just regarded her with a puzzled frown.

"I never thought about it…I'm sorry, Rick could you go grab a towel or blanket for me?"

"What for?"

"I'm nursing Sarah," she hissed at the obtuse man.

Tamahere saved them both further troubles, raising both hands in the air in a stopping gesture. "Kate, please relax. I am a Polynesian. Traditionally, our women wore nothing to cover their top half, and nursing is, of course, a completely natural process. I thought nothing of it as well, so please, do not trouble yourself over it."

Kate sighed. She would have to make a lot of adjustments when she went back to the real world, but for now she was relieved to be in the presence of someone she'd known before and whom she trusted.

Relaxing again into the chair, Sarah still nursing eagerly, she smiled at her baby for a moment before looking up at the men and nodding to show she was ready for them to start.

Tamahere nodded back. "You asked about our survival in the lifeboat. You are correct, the three of us in the boat all made it. It took weeks before our rescue, but we were found and recovered from the ordeal quickly. Unfortunately, we had no idea where the _Iriata_ had foundered, so no vigorous efforts were made to find you."

"Plus you were told that we were dead," Rick interjected.

"Yes, there was that as well. Grollet told me you were both dead, and once we were rescued he repeated that story to all. It was widely reported, especially given Hopo's fame in the Western world. You were both proclaimed dead, along with Arenui."

Kate nodded. "I thought it might have been something like that. You know the truth about what Grollet did to us?" she asked Tamahere.

He nodded. "Yes, Hopo has written the early story out, including the details of your forced incarceration on the ship by Grollet."

Kate looked sharply at Rick. "You wrote it down? Why?"

"I had to. It was the only way I could communicate."

"I don't understand. Why not just tell him what happened."

"Please, Kate. You're jumping ahead and it'll make more sense once you hear the rest. Ok?" he pleaded with her to understand. She acquiesced with a quick nod, and Tamahere continued.

"Grollet reaped much fame for his supposed exploits; he took advantage of it to enter politics successfully. His star ascended in a fashion that is hard to believe, and I'm sorry to report that he is, as we speak, the President of French Polynesia."

Kate was stunned into silence.

"Hard to believe, isn't it?" Rick asked. "I couldn't wrap my head around that weasel doing so well either, until I remembered that the most successful politicians are usually the ones willing to do anything to move up the power ladder. Grollet fits that bill perfectly."

Kate was still reeling. "The President? Of the country? What does that mean for us?"

"Nothing good, that's for sure," Rick grumbled. "It's his position, and his desperation to retain his power, that led to the long delay in my getting back to you, and why we are given so little time now to be together without rushing to deliver our story to the world."

"To the world? What on earth are you talking about, Rick? I have no desire to be splashed across the papers as a form of entertainment." Kate was visibly angry at the prospect.

"We have no choice, Kate. It's literally a life or death situation, and while I realize this rescue will be in a fashion that's anathema to you, it is quite necessary."

Kate's eyes flashed. "You would expose your children to the press, relinquish all of our privacy, for what? No. There has to be another way to do whatever it is you are trying to do."

"Kate, I'm telling you, there is no other way. We've tried to come up with other plans, but this is by far the safest. We can't put the kids at further risk than they already are."

"Just who is 'we', Rick?"

"Well, you see Tamahere. Afaitu Tutomo is my lawyer. He was related to Anapa as well. He stayed in Tahiti, along with my mother. Those are the three principal people helping us." Rick deliberately left out Jim. He feared her reaction to her father's name, and they simply didn't have time right now to deal with it. He hoped to explain further when they had the luxury of time to dissect everything in detail.

"I'm still not sure what it is you're so afraid of," she responded mulishly.

"If I may," interrupted Tamahere, "I'd like to explain just a bit further the recent events so that Kate might understand just a bit more about Grollet."

Rick gestured for him to continue, while Kate shifted Sarah to her other breast. It was a bit surreal to be sitting and nursing her baby while arguing with Rick—who she'd spent so much time agonizing over, worried he was hurt or dead. Now he was restored to her, and she found herself arguing over his choices. Admonishing herself to listen with a more open mind, she waited for Tamahere to continue.

"I am ashamed to tell you that in my despair, I turned to mind numbing alternatives for several years. It seemed as though everyone wanted to fete Grollet for his daring exploits, but they all forgot about those who had died. It did not help that Anapa died shortly after our rescue; complications arose from his injuries. Hina followed him not long after. My entire world had collapsed. It is no excuse, but I was in a very dark place."

Kate looked over at Rick. He'd clearly heard the news about Anapa and Hina previously, as he had little reaction to the fact that they were dead. She knew that they'd meant a lot to him—they'd become family. He gave her a tight smile; it bothered him, a lot, but now was not the time to discuss it.

Suddenly it hit her that they'd be able to discuss it later. That he was back; would be holding her tonight after the sun descended into its fiery western berth.

She'd missed so much about him, but the lonely time at night, after the boys chatter finally quietened into soft snores and she was bereft in their bed…that had been the seconds and minutes and hours that she'd wondered if she could go on without him. Wondered if she was strong enough. Wished that she could touch him one more time, tell him once more how much she loved him.

Tonight, it would be different. Tonight, he'd be there. She couldn't wait, yet first they had to get through whatever crisis Rick and Tamahere were worried about.

Paying attention again, she replayed what Tamahere had told her. That he'd dissolved into alcohol and drugs after being rescued. It surprised her, especially given how strong and confident he seemed now. He didn't act weak.

She recognized the self-contempt relayed by his explanation, tried to be sympathetic. Rick was heartened by this; perhaps a reconciliation with Jim was not out of the question after all.

"I finally gathered the shreds of my life back together and moved to another island, where I became as a hermit. I saw few people, and the world moved on without me, as it had without you as well."

"No one looked for us? No one cared?" Kate's strangled voice asked. She and Rick had long hoped someone would be out there looking for them, but that had clearly been a delusion.

"Hopo's mother offered a reward and tried to get answers, but no one had any idea where you were. I'd planned to tap into Anapa's incredible brain; I'm sure he might have been able to find you, even with the scant information that I had to describe where the _Iriata_ went down. However, his illness precluded my attempts to discuss it with him, and his death put an end to that line of enquiry."

"All that time, in the beginning. I kept hoping someone was looking for us." Kate whispered.

"They were all told we were dead, by the hero of his own tale. With no reason to doubt him, Grollet took advantage and was soon a prominent figure. A champion, a survivor. We never had a chance against him," Rick answered.

"And so time marched on. Me in my hermit hut on Huahine Iti, you both here, with your family. Our lives moved outside the streams of the rest of the world, until, one day I was hungry and had a bare pantry."

Kate's quizzical look almost made Rick laugh. She was so adorable. So beautiful. Nothing about her had changed. She was still his wife, his lover. The mother of his children. He was so in love with her.

"I had to go to a nearby town for supplies," Tamahere told her. "A rendezvous with fate, as it were. I stopped for lunch at a diner; uncomfortable with other people, I sat far apart. To amuse myself, I read a local paper. That is when I read about a wild man being found adrift on a rotting bamboo boat. Rescued, nursed back to health, he initially was unable to reveal his identity. Then, a week after being found, he announced that he was none other than Richard Rodgers."

"When were you found?" she asked Rick.

"About 6 weeks after I drifted away from here. I survived because it was rainy season. I had some bottles with me, and was able to refill them often using the sail. I caught some fish and turtles, enough to survive. And I was able to repair the boat when I needed to with the extra supplies we'd brought with us. However, I'm told it was a close thing there at the end. I was very lucky the ship found me."

"Unfortunately for your husband, declaring himself the reincarnation of Richard Rodgers caught the attention of Grollet, of course. This was not something he could allow, and Hopo tells me he was soon visited by a man threatening all kinds of nasty things."

Rick nodded, agreeing with his friend's description of the events.

"Hopo was then thrown in jail, railroaded into a heavy sentence, and left to die in the notorious prison, Nuutania."

Kate gasped, looking to Rick for confirmation. He nodded, sadly. "I was there for several months. Desperate the whole time, wondering what was happening here, how you were holding up. Frantic to get out, so I could start searching for you. It seemed as though the entire world was against us, and by incarcerating me, I was helpless to get to you. Not sure who I could trust. Friendless. I despaired, Kate. I was so sure I'd never be with you again, never see my children."

"They threw you in jail," she wondered out loud. "On what charges? How could they justify such a thing?"

"They accused me of being a fraud, after the reward money. They told me in private that I'd never be able to prove who I was. I knew if I were killed, that no one would ever look for you. I figured the best course of action was to go along with the charade and try to find someone to help me."

"But, Rick. Jail? It couldn't have been easy for you."

He shook his head. "I'd have done anything, if it meant that I'd be able to find and rescue you some day. What was jail, when I was already languishing in a prison of my own making, when I'd accidentally been separated from you?"

He swallowed back his tears, but she could see how it had affected him. She'd learned long ago to read him like a book. He had suffered, and his dark memories served to help her understand more about why he'd chosen his current course, despite her aversion to the publicity.

Tamahere spoke again. "In that diner, reading that article, I saw my friend Hopo really was alive. I vowed at that moment to do everything I could to restore his freedom, taken so cruelly from him. I knew that Grollet, and his henchman Tane, would likely kill to keep their secret safe."

Kate gasped. "What do you think they would do? I mean, Grollet did try to kill Rick and me, but that was by leaving us behind on a sinking ship. You don't think…you don't believe they'd harm the children, do you?"

"Kate, Grollet struck me in the head and locked you in your cabin. It was not a simple, passive act. And that was when he had much less to lose. Now, he is the President of a country. The power and prestige are not something he'd just willingly give up, especially with a scandal over his behavior looming over him."

"But, they're innocent children," she protested. She couldn't wrap her head around the possibility of someone deliberately harming a child, not even for political capital.

"They threw me in jail, railroaded my conviction. I'm sure once the story died down that they were planning on me disappearing forever. We cannot presume that either Grollet or Tane has any shred of humanity left. Assume the worst of them, and be constantly vigilant until this nightmare has been revealed. That's what'll keep us all safe," Rick exhorted.

"Tane was involved too?" Kate asked.

"Yes. I don't know exactly how Grollet moved him to act against you, but he confirmed that worm's lies about your deaths. He has been his right hand man ever since, enjoying the crumbs that Grollet drops to him periodically," Tamahere explained.

"This is so overwhelming. It's hard to take it all in."

"We are nearly done, then you will have to process it all quickly. To continue, I knew I had to recruit help, but had to have someone trustworthy. This is how I came to involve Afaitu, who has worked literal miracles to bring your husband to you today."

"Afaitu visited me in jail, claiming to be my lawyer," Rick began. "He was the first person I came across who believed me. He gave me a message from Tamahere, and I knew I finally had some friends to help me. To explain it all, he had me start writing our story down for him. It was a welcome outlet for all my frustration and anxiety over what was happening here. Not knowing is so hard to live with, Kate."

"I know, Rick. I didn't know where you had gone, either. I felt like you weren't dead, couldn't be dead, but the more time that passed, the harder it was to hold onto that belief."

"Afaitu got me out of jail, with my mother's help. That's a story for later," he promised, seeing the questioning look in her eyes. "As soon as I was out, I started looking for the island. Afaitu helped me with a map program, and then arranged the rescue team. We came here on Ari'i's boat. He's a captain of his own cargo ship, believe it or not. He jumped at the chance to help us."

Kate smiled broadly. She'd always liked Ari'i; he'd been a clear heir to Anapa's knowledge of the sea.

"However, somehow Grollet became suspicious. He sent the French Navy after us, so we couldn't come straight here. We tried several different things to throw him off the trail, but he may be on his way here even now. I spent many hours trying to live with the excruciating thought that he might even have beaten us to you. It was unbearable, Kate."

Kate reached for his hand, squeezing it tight. She could see he was still terrified they might lose all to Grollet's plans.

"So, Afaitu came up with another plan. He entrusted our story to Marcel Laurent, a vaunted veteran reporter for the AFP. He sent him and a camera crew to meet our boat; it was they that provided the Zodiac that brought us here. We hope we've fooled the French Navy for the time being, but there is no guarantee of that. This is why we must film our story now. We have to get it out to the world and let them know you're alive. That we have three beautiful children. That we are not pawns in the games that Grollet mastered long ago."

Kate agonized over his words. They made sense, but she was not thrilled with the idea of filming. "Could it not be a simple article in the paper? Why does it have to be on film?"

"Film has an impact that written words do not. They will be able to see you. Hear you. You'll be made real to them. We'll show the world how we lived, what we went through because of that man. And in return, the interest of the world in our lives will be the safety net that protects us from harm. Once the truth is revealed, Grollet will have no reason to pursue further harm."

"I didn't see a camera crew with Laurent. Are there not more people?" She hoped that it was just the reporter. He seemed nice enough, despite his job.

"We landed on the outer beach and left them there, after testing the satellite connection. I was going to have Tamahere go retrieve them, once we told you about the urgent need for this piece."

Kate sighed, wishing she could think of some other angle that would protect them and not involve publicity. However, nothing sprang to mind.

"Kate, Hopo is right. There is no other option, at this point."

"I can't go on camera dressed like this," she protested. "I know I've lived like this for many years, but I do not want the world ogling me simply because we survived on an island for ten years with little to no clothing."

"I actually brought some clothes with me, in my bag," Rick told her. "I was totally guessing sizes, and I didn't want to be seen buying a bunch of kid's clothes. I thought the press would wholly overreact to that. But, I've got something for the boys as well as for you."

Capitulating, Kate gave in. "Ok, ok. I know you think this is the right thing to do, Rick. And I know you would do anything to keep us safe. I'm not thrilled about the whole thing, but I'll do it."

Tamahere smiled, joyful that their plan was on target. They'd worried Kate would take time to convince, but she'd supported her husband's decision, trusting he had considered all the other options.

"I know this has not been easy, Kate," Tamahere remarked. "You've been reunited with your husband, gone from you all these months. And we've given you nearly no time to talk with him alone, or to be able to celebrate his return. However, great forces are aligned against you. Those of us on your side have worked hard to achieve this juncture for you. Your moment is now at hand. We must reveal to the world that you are, in fact, alive and well, Kate Beckett. It is time for the world to understand what you and Hopo have undergone. To reveal Grollet for the snake that he is. And to claim your rightful place in the world, safe at the side of Hopo, with your children's security ensured."

* * *

**The plan for updating will be as follows: I will continue to update this as I normally do, until we reach a natural break point. This break will be when they leave the island. At that point, we will have a hiatus (just like the show!) so that I can keep my job and write for the next part of the story. **

**Once I've got enough chapters written to start posting on a regular basis, then we'll resume. It's kind of a hybrid between a long break and intermittent updating. I think with a natural break in the story, it won't seem as though you've been left hanging. At least, I hope that's the case. **

**The advantage of a hiatus and pre-writing is the ability to re-write and change events before posting. It's truly the best way for me to do this, and will result in a better story, which I know you all deserve. Thanks.**


	63. Chapter 63: Life As We Knew It

**This chapter is dedicated to Castlekitty. One thing that struck me in some comments I'd received was how much Castlekitty enjoyed my descriptions of the plants and food available to Rick and Kate. Apparently, Castlekitty spent some time in Hawaii. I do love to try new things, and it's one of the great pleasures in writing a story like this where you learn so much about a culture very different than the one you're used to.**

* * *

April, 2010

"This is our house, where we sleep 'n stuff," Patrick explained to Laurent.

Laurent admired the structure from the outside; the other adults had just moved out of the clearing. Patrick was bouncing around him, all energy and motion as only the young truly possess.

Alex was a different story. He was much quieter, more reserved. Laurent and his wife had been blessed with three healthy children of their own, and he was now a doting grandfather to seven, ranging in age from nearly one to twelve years. He was confident he could draw the young man out of his shell, with time.

Unfortunately, time was not a luxury that they had. Hoping that the sight of Alex's younger brother interacting with him would be reassuring, Laurent attended to Patrick's incessant questions and took notes in his journal book to keep everything straight.

"This is a very nice looking house, from the outside. Why don't you show me around it?"

Patrick bounded up the porch steps. "This is our porch. We sit out here at night and watch the sun go down, and talk and play. Over here," he cried, jumping to one side of the porch, "is our shower. Daddy ran bamboo pipes from the waterfall to here and that's how we get water without going to the lake."

Laurent was quite impressed with the whole setup. The house alone appeared to have been a huge undertaking. The ingenuity of some of the building methods amazed him. He made a note to ask how Rick had learned to work bamboo in such a fashion, and how long it had taken to build the house.

"This is our door. It works like this," Patrick chattered, demonstrating the door's ability to be wide open and sheltering like an awning, or closed down to keep out weather.

Laurent decided to take some pictures of the various parts of the house. The roof alone must have taken weeks. It appeared to be thatched with leaves, and his careful eye saw that the thatching was thick and sturdy. He'd bet it didn't leak, even during a monsoon rain. Again, amazing.

"Whatcha doing with that thing?" Patrick inquired as he snapped a few shots.

"Well, Patrick, this thing is called a camera. It takes pictures."

Patrick screwed his face up, turning to look at his brother. "Did we learn about cameras?"

Alex looked at Laurent, giving him an inscrutable glance, then answered. "Yes. Remember, Daddy talked about it. When we were talking about light."

Laurent was fascinated by this insight into life on the island, but he remained quiet. He didn't want to overwhelm the boys. If they wanted to know something, they would ask him. He felt letting them come to him on their own terms would be the best strategy, for now.

"I kinda 'member that," Patrick chirped. He bounded back towards Laurent. "He said that light bounces off things, and if it bounces into a camera, you can get it to stick on some paper, and that's a picture. Is that right?"

Laurent could see the intense look that Alex gave him, almost challenging him to dispute their father's explanation. "Yes, Patrick, that's right." Alex relaxed, marginally. "Except nowadays, you don't have to have paper to make a picture. You can have one on a screen."

"What's a screen?"

"Well, I've got a very small one here, on the back of this camera," he said, turning the DSLR he was using around so both boys could see it. "I can take a picture, then look at it on this screen if I want to. But there are much bigger screens, too. Like a TV or a movie. Have you talked about those things?"

"Yeah!" Patrick jumped up and down. Laurent couldn't help but smile in response to the enthusiasm of the small boy. "Daddy said we'd love those things. He said you can watch people moving and stuff."

"That's true, Patrick. If you have a special kind of camera, it can record all the light it's taking in, and then play it back. So, we could be talking about something while the camera is filming, then play the whole conversation back on a screen and watch it."

"Is that the right kind of camera to make a movie?" Alex asked, his reserve thawing rapidly.

"Well, this particular camera can record a video, but its main use is for pictures. Would you like to see how to take a picture?"

Both boys shouted 'yes' in delight, so Laurent patiently showed them how to look through the viewfinder of the DSLR and press the shutter release. He had them each take a couple pictures, then he took a head shot of each, followed by a shot of them sitting arms around each other on one of the benches of the porch, the house providing the background. It was an exposition on the life they'd led here: house of bamboo, though clever in its design; minimally clothed boys, who were both brothers and good friends.

"Shall we look at the pictures now?"

The two boys leapt to their feet, eager to see their first pictures.

"May we go in the house? The screen on this camera is best seen out of the direct sunlight."

Patrick grabbed Laurent's empty left hand and led him into the house. His respect for Rick and Kate's ingenuity went up even further. The house was very cozy, with bamboo furnishings that were functional, yet comfortable. He marveled over the beds, and the clever way the upper windows worked to help circulate air through the house.

"What about the pictures, Monsieur?" Alex broke into his musing.

"Oh, yes, sorry. Ok, boys, come over here." They sat down together on one of the couches. It was quite comfortable, the design again of bamboo. The two boys were now relaxed enough to practically drape themselves over him as he turned on the LED screen to review their pictures.

Gasps of surprise and laughter followed, as they flicked through the pics they'd taken. He showed them the shots he'd done of the island before he'd reached the interior, then all the shots of their home and their family. One picture of Rick and Kate seemed to strike Alex especially, as he asked for Laurent to keep it onscreen for many seconds.

"Do you like that picture?" Laurent asked, as the boy stared at it. The scene was of the couple right after Alex had led him and Tamahere to the clearing by the house. Kate and Rick were locked in a very intimate gaze, the love they had for the other quite apparent in the shot. Patrick was held in Rick's arms, staring at the camera, while Sarah was clinging to her mother, with a fearful stare turned up to her father.

"Yeah," Alex whispered.

"What do you like about it?"

"My Daddy is back. And that he and Mommy are…are…are like before he left."

"You mean the way they're looking at each other?"

"Yeah. Like they can't always see us."

"Do they look at each other like this a lot?"

"I'll say!" Alex smiled. "They told me it's 'cause they love each other."

"Yeah! They're always kissin' each other," interjected Patrick. "All the time!" he complained.

"I think they are very much in love with each other. I know your Dad couldn't think of anything else, besides finding you all and making sure you were safe."

"Is there a big storm coming?" Patrick asked, all wide eyed and anxious.

"No, not a storm. But there are some people who don't like your parents, and they didn't want anyone to find you guys. Now that we have found you, we have to make sure those people can't hurt you."

"Why would they want to hurt us?" Alex wondered.

Laurent was sad, knowing he'd just introduced a topic that neither boy would have had to worry about at any point in their lives. Until now. Yet now it was all the adults involved could think about. They had to make them safe. And his job was to provide a means for that safety.

"Well, I think that question is best answered by your parents, Alex. But I'm here, with your Dad and Tamahere, to make sure that they don't. There are three more men waiting on the beach, outside the channel. They're going to help keep you safe, too."

"There's more people? On the beach?" marveled Alex.

"Yes. Two of them work with me. Their names are Julien Guilbert and Jean-Luc Loison. They have some of the special video cameras with them, as well as some monitors, which are bigger screens than this one here," Laurent explained, pointing at the LED on the camera.

"Wow! I want to see that," Patrick exclaimed.

"You will. Your Dad and Mom are talking with Tamahere about why we are going to be filming you all, but the next step will be to go get those three men and all the equipment and set it up here."

"Are we going to be on the video?"

"Yep. I think so. And then we can watch it on the screen."

"That sounds like fun!" cried Patrick. Even Alex seemed excited at the prospect.

"Well, let's get some more pictures of your house and anywhere else you want to take me, then we'll go see if your parents have finished talking."

The brothers jumped up to their feet again, eager to show Laurent everything they could think of that might interest him. They'd never thought how thrilling being rescued would be. It was almost as wonderful as having their Daddy back.

* * *

"So, what's next?" Kate asked. Sarah was fussing, wanting down now that she was finished nursing.

Rick reached for her, and this time the baby allowed him to hold her for several minutes, exploring his face with her hands before demanding to be freed.

The three adults watched as she toddled about the kitchen area, sitting down next to a pile of blocks that Rick had carved for Alex when he was an infant.

"Next, we need to get the rest of the film crew here and get set up, tell our story."

"How long do we have?" she asked.

Tamahere glanced at his watch. "Paris will want to edit the raw footage, but the important deadline is to have it there so they can prepare it for distribution."

"What time is it now?" Rick inquired.

"Just before noon."

"Wow, I would have thought it much later."

"That's because you haven't slept properly for days, Hopo. We made good time, but now we must hurry. It will do us no good to have found Kate and the children and then turn around and find a French warship bearing down on us."

Just then they heard the bright chatter of the two boys as they subjected Laurent to question after question. The three were walking back from the orchard area, where the boys had obviously been showing their new friend the bounty of their fruit trees. Each was carrying several different examples.

"Boys, I need kisses and hugs," Rick entreated. Each carefully placed their prizes in the basket they used for storage, then the clambered up on either of Rick's legs. They happily bestowed their father with generous amounts of kisses and hugs, while at the same time they babbled about the things they'd been doing with Laurent.

"Are we ready to go get the other men?" Laurent asked of the group once the boys had settled down.

Rick nodded. "Yes, I think we've been able to explain enough of the situation to Kate for her to understand the urgency."

"Good. Let me just say, Mme. Rodgers, that I deeply regret how rushed this all must necessarily be," he stated, giving Kate a sympathetic look. "However, the circumstances are well out of our hands. I am happy to be of whatever benefit to your family that I can be, and I pray with all my might that what we accomplish today will make your family safe from Grollet's reach."

Kate nodded, too emotional at the thought of what might happen to her children if they failed to speak up and expose Grollet for the snake that he was.

Tamahere stood. "We must make haste. Rick, are you coming?"

Rick looked at his wife, then Tamahere. "No. I can't leave them, though it's only a short way. My place is here."

"Are there any peculiarities I should know, to navigate back out?"

"No. Just avoid the sharp rocks at the entrance from the sea. It's all quite deep and clear, otherwise."

"Then we will return soon. Please be ready."

With that, Tamahere and Laurent strode off, leaving the Rodgers family alone for the first time.

* * *

"We don't have time to cut their hair," fretted Kate.

"It's ok, Kate. Just getting them into real clothes will be a miracle."

They'd just walked into the house. The boys were currently outside, sharing a shower, though from the shouts and giggles, Rick wasn't sure how much cleaning was being accomplished.

He placed his bag on the floor, then turned to draw his wife into his embrace.

"We haven't had time for a proper kiss alone since I got here," he murmured, pulling her as close as he could. Sarah was safely tucked into the large baby pen they'd created for the boys when they were little.

"You know, I was wondering if we were going to have a moment to ourselves at all," Kate murmured back, drawing his head down to hers. Grinning at each other, they wasted no time in reacquainting themselves in the taste and feel of each other.

Groaning, Rick deepened the kiss. He'd missed her so much, and being able to hold her in his arms like this was a balm to his fractured soul.

"You taste like heaven," he panted, before reengaging her warm mouth. He couldn't get enough.

They were both panting heavily when they broke away. He rested his forehead on hers. "I can't wait to have you all to myself, Mrs. Rodgers."

"Why is that, Mr. Rodgers?" she asked playfully.

"To show you exactly how much I've missed you," he breathed, voice husky with need.

"I'll look forward to it," she said.

He tilted his head to kiss her again, when a shriek rent the air. Letting out exasperated breaths at the same time, they both giggled.

"Guess we'd better get ready. I'll go supervise the two wild boys if you want to look at the clothing?"

"Ok," Kate agreed. She heard him admonishing the boys, and most of the shrieking stopped. At least until her husband, half man-child that he could be, joined in the fun. She laughed out loud. "Sarah, your daddy is back."

The toddler did not look impressed with the pronouncement.

Reaching in the bag, she withdrew a pile of clothes. The selections for Sarah were obvious—a white onesie that had a Tahitian logo, which Kate rejected immediately as being too small. However, there was a very cute yellow and pink dress with flowers along the bottom that looked as though it would fit.

There were khaki shorts of several sizes for the boys, including a pair for Rick. Black t-shirts in boy sizes were clearly for Alex and Patrick. Unfolding them, she burst out laughing. Each had a red and white flag, representing the country, and the words 'Made in French Polynesia' emblazoned on them.

Rick's t-shirt choice was a dark blue, also with a Tahitian logo. She supposed he'd not had much choice; he'd probably wanted to appear to be buying souvenirs for people at home. Thankful the boys didn't have any white clothing to dirty up (which was a very likely scenario), she picked up the last piece.

Wrapped in tissue paper, she tried to imagine what kind of tourist outfit she'd received. Carefully opening it, she gasped when an elegant, sleeveless dress unfolded. Mainly black, it was a sheath in design. The bottom had two bands of color encircling it.

"Do you like it?" a deep voice sounded behind her. His voice. It sent sparks down her spine and she felt a pooling heat in her lower abdomen.

"Yes, it's beautiful. But how did you manage it?"

"Mother bought it. No one would question her buying a dress."

She looked over at him. He was carrying a dripping Patrick in his arms, while Alex stood next to him.

"It's so pretty, Mommy," Alex said.

"Ok, boys, let's let Mom get to the shower. There's some warm water left, but not much," Rick apologized. "These two were being a bit crazy."

"Think you can wrangle them into the clothes?"

"Just don't take long with your shower, and we'll all live when you return. I hope."

* * *

It took some stern words from Rick and some even sterner ones from Kate to keep the boys in their clothes. They weren't used to wearing so much, and while they were thrilled with the pockets on the shorts and the bright colors of the flag, they kept wanting to take the shirts off so they could see them better.

Sarah was even worse; she hated the dress and little shorts that went with it. Screaming her displeasure for a solid half hour, she finally cried herself to sleep. Rick picked her up to carry her back to the kitchen area, where they'd meet the team from the boat.

"Ready for this?" he asked Kate, as she surveyed everyone. They looked halfway presentable.

"I guess."

"It's gonna be fine, Kate. We'll get through this, then we can start planning what the future will be like."

She let out a gasp of breath. "Ok, babe. I just hope this isn't a complete disaster."

"Nah, Kate. Worst case scenario, it'll be a _near_ disaster."

She didn't laugh, so he caressed her cheek, trying to reassure her.

"It's going to be fine. We're going to go out there and explain what happened to us, and in the process we're going to save ourselves and our kids from a psychopathic politician. Ok?"

She looked at him, up through her eyelashes, and nodded. He just wanted to lead her back to their bed and forget about the rest of the world altogether—just as they'd done for so many years. But, it was no longer an option. So, instead he grasped her hand, squeezing it tight in his, and together they walked out to face the world.

* * *

The first meeting of the boys and Salesi was like love at first sight. They were a bit scared or unsure of Loison and Guilbert, but Salesi, gentle giant and all, was like a beloved uncle. A quiet, beloved uncle. Perhaps that was his appeal.

As Kate watched her sons trying separately to capture Salesi's attention, Rick discussed the logistics of the interview with Laurent.

"Where should we set up?"

"The light is good in all the places except in the house. If we needed to, we could use a light inside, but I would suggest wherever you are comfortable. A place to sit and chat, more or less."

"Kate, what about the porch of the house? Or the kitchen?"

"I think I'd prefer the kitchen. Let's have your giant friend there carry one of the benches in here, and everyone could easily sit."

"That should work out well, Mme. Rodgers. While you arrange the seating, we will set up and check in with Paris once more."

Laurent opened the satellite phone and went through the process of calling France. There was a twelve hour time difference, but he knew there was a whole cadre of people waiting for this story.

Once the call was completed, Laurent checked with his two crewmen. Everything was working fine. They began filming some background video of the island and the area surrounding the kitchen structure.

"Rick, I believe you were to make a phone call once we were ready to start?" Laurent stated, handing the phone to the waiting man.

"Oh, right," Rick uttered, explaining to Kate as he dialed that he was supposed to check in once he'd found her safe. "They're waiting on Papeete for word that all's ok," he replied to an arched eyebrow.

"Who is waiting?"

"My lawyer, Afaitu, mother and Ji—my mother's manager."

"Your mother's manager? What on earth for?"

Rick held up a finger as the call went through. He was going to have to explain this whole situation sooner or later. He was hoping for later, but he was terrified he'd mess up something, and sooner would take a bite out of his proverbial ass.

* * *

Afaitu nearly jumped out of his seat by the little desk in Jim's hotel room when the phone rang. They'd been sitting in tense silence, all willing the phone to sound, but dreading it the longer it went on being quiet.

He'd arrived just after Celeste had called with the news from Paris that the rescue team had made it to the beach. That had been several hours ago, and with no word for so long the three of them were about to lose it.

Martha had been pacing, back and forth, back and forth. Jim just sat in a chair, slumped down and looking defeated before they'd even heard anything. Afaitu could practically see the man rehearsing his lines at a memorial service for his daughter.

Afaitu had nothing to add. It was all out of their hands at this point.

The tension was reaching a breaking point when the phone rang. Martha and Jim just stared at it, not willing to believe it was making a noise. Imagining that they were just hearing things.

Afaitu jumped up, grabbing the handset before the other end gave up.

"Hello? This is Jim Beckett's phone."

"Afaitu? How are you?" Rick's voice was altered by some static, but easily identifiable.

"Yeah, it's me. More importantly, how are you?"

"I'm fine. Why are you answering Jim's phone?"

"I was closest. So, did you find your wife? Is everyone ok?"

A tugging on his sleeve made him stop and turn. "Hang on a minute, Rick."

"Ok."

"Put it on speaker. So we can all hear," urged Martha. She had been the one tugging on him, so close that he could make out individual pores on her cheeks.

"Good idea, Martha," Jim chimed in.

Afaitu pushed the right button, then spoke again. "Ok, Rick. I'm here with your mother and with Jim. You're on speaker, so they can hear you too. Now, is everyone ok over there?"

"Yeah!" The one simple syllable was enough to collapse Martha to the bed, while Jim bowed his head over his knees and sobbed.

"We're all fine, here. We made it to the island pretty early this morning, and dropped some of the crew off at the beach outside. Then, Tamahere, Laurent and I came into the interior. We ran into Alex, my oldest first. He was gathering nuts on the opposite shore."

Jim had his hands pressed into prayer, tears streaming down his face, while Martha had a handkerchief pressed to her mouth, drinking in every word. The emotion in the room was nearly a visible entity.

"Then, we made our way across the beach to Pereora, and I found Kate giving a shower to Patrick, my middle child. Sarah, our youngest, is walking now."

Martha sobbed, a great, noisy gulp of air.

"You have three kids, Rick?" Afaitu asked. He was surprised, though he shouldn't have been. Not after Martha had figured out they'd had at least one that Rick had managed to keep a secret during all the time they'd had with him in Papeete.

"Yes. Three healthy kids. And Kate, my beautiful wife, kept it all running smoothly while I was gone. They're all in great shape, though I'm sure Kate is looking forward to a real shower with hot water."

"That's great, Rick," Afaitu said. Neither Jim nor Martha seemed capable of speaking.

"Well, I've gotta run. We're gonna be filming soon. Give everyone our love, and hopefully we'll talk more later tonight. We need to figure out what to do from here."

"Yes, for sure. You'll have to give me a little time to see what the fall out is from the local reporting. But we'll have a plan, never fear."

"Ok, thanks Afaitu. Love you, mother and Jim."

Rick hung up, but not before Kate's voice rang through the now silent hotel room.

"Just who's this Jim, Rick?"

She didn't sound happy.

* * *

"Do you need any help with the dishes, chica?"

"No, Javi, we're fine. Almost done here," Lanie called out. She and Jenny were washing up together, giggling over some of Kevin's quirks that Jenny was willing to share.

It was getting late, but they'd had a late dinner and then dessert at the Esposito's apartment. She and Javi had invited the couple over, as it was clear that Kevin was getting quite serious with Jenny O'Malley.

"So, you met his parents last week?" Lanie asked, finishing up the last bowl.

"Yeah. It was pretty low key, except his youngest sister just sat and stared at me the whole dinner. She was kind of creepy."

"You mean Maeve? She's very protective of Kev."

"Protective? I thought she was going to stab me with her table knife if I so much as held hands with him."

Lanie laughed, and handing Jenny her wine glass and motioning her to go out to the living room.

The boys were in a heated battle of some video game.

"Javier Esposito, I _know_ that you know what time it is. And I _know_ that you don't want to make me miss my show."

"I set the DVR, baby. You'll be fine. Just a few more minutes," her husband said, distracted as he blew something up. Or shot Kev. She couldn't tell.

"Nuh-uh, no way. You know they came over so that Jenny and I could see the whole thing. Now, you've had all night to play. It's our turn."

Javi didn't flinch. However, when Jenny turned to Kevin and batted her eyes, she got results.

"C'mon Espo, we'll call it a draw," he said, shutting his side down.

Javi looked affronted at his partner. "Man, you ain't got no…"

"I would hold that thought, if I were you, Javier Esposito," Lanie admonished. "Now shut it down and put it on the right channel, please." She leaned over and gave him a kiss. She wasn't above using some sugar at times as well.

"Ok," he grumbled. "What channel is it again?"

"Fox."

As the console shut down and the TV came on, Javier got up to put away the game controllers. Sound blared from the TV. It was nearly nine, and ads were running in between programs.

"So, Lanie, who do you think is going to get voted off this time?" Jenny asked.

Lanie made no response, staring at the TV in shock.

Javi noticed he'd forgotten to change the channel; it was on CBS. Flipping it to Fox, he sighed in relief when he saw he'd changed just in time for the opening montage to scroll. He jumped when his wife attacked him, scrabbling for the remote and screaming, "Change it back, change it back."

"Ok, ok, chica. I thought you wanted to watch Idol with Jenny."

"Change it back, now."

Lanie was crying, very upset. Javi looked at Kevin and Jenny who were just staring in surprise at his wife.

Flipping the channel back to CBS, it didn't take more than a few seconds to figure out what had distressed his wife.

"We're pre-empting our regularly scheduled program to bring you this special report." Leslie Stahl's no nonsense voice stated. "Many of you were aware of the recent discovery of Richard Rodgers, better known as Rick Castle, the best-selling mystery writer, after being reported missing and presumed dead ten years ago. Questions abound over where he has been and how he survived. Mr. Castle explained in a press conference in Tahiti that he had survived all these years on a desert island. Even after his rescue, he remained in grave danger. Tonight, in conjunction with our friends from the Agence France Presse, we will show you the shocking truth. Please join us on this special edition of 60 Minutes and learn the devastating secret that Rick Castle kept for so long and the shocking twist that no one, not even his mother, was aware of."

Tickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktick

* * *

**Thoughts? Greatly appreciate all the comments from everyone. Sorry I've been too busy to thank people individually.  
**


	64. Chapter 64: Can't Stop the Signal

**This chapter is dedicated to Storylover12th. Love the comments and the wonderful support. Thank you all for the kind comments.**

* * *

April, 2010

Afaitu clicked his phone off and turned back to see that Jim was still on his, while Martha was looking expectantly at him. Nodding at Jim, they both waited patiently. Or as near to patient as they could be.

"Are they there yet?" Jim inquired into his phone. He was pacing in front of the silent TV, its flickering screen partially lighting his skin in a sallow glow.

"What time did they tell you?" He looked much older, just in the last few hours after they'd heard his daughter's angry voice ringing in the room.

"Ok, I think we're ready on this end," Jim commented, looking at Afaitu with his face wrinkled up in a questioning fashion.

Afaitu nodded decisively. They were ready.

"You can explain it however you wish, but you might have them watch it first. We don't know a lot of the answers ourselves. The show might put many of them to rest. Ok…yeah, me too. Love you, Celeste. Give them all a kiss for me."

Hanging up, he slumped down in a chair near Martha.

"What'd she say, Jim?" the red head asked.

"They go on air at 9. The network didn't want to wait until 10; they thought they'd have a bigger audience at the earlier time slot."

"That's probably true," she replied. "The sooner the better, anyway."

Jim ran his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, it's the best we could hope for. When are they going to air it here?" he asked, looking at Afaitu, who'd been calling the local stations.

"Starting at 3pm, so that it's at the same time as New York. They don't want to be scooped on a story like this."

"Which station will carry it? It's almost time to start," Martha commented, picking up the remote to change channels.

Afaitu just smiled. "All of them, Martha."

"All of them?!" she gasped.

"It's the biggest thing that's happened here since, well…since the shipwreck and rescue of the three survivors. Actually, it's bigger than that. This is the government we're talking about, in collusion to kill two innocent people. They'll all carry it."

"Well, ok then," she remarked. "Are you ready to see your grandchildren for the first time?" she asked Jim.

He gave her a wan smile. "Might be the _only_ way I'll get to see them."

"Jim Beckett! You stop that right now! You and I both know that she's in shock, especially with all this thrust upon her. It'll get straightened out, one way or the other. And if she's half as stubborn as you, once she finally realizes what a terrific man you've become there'll be no question about your role in their lives."

Jim just nodded. He knew how stubborn Katie was. He hoped he'd have a chance to prove that he deserved a second chance but he also recognized, sadly, that it might take a long time even to get to that point.

"Hush everyone," Martha shouted, unnecessarily, as she was the only one talking. "It's coming on!"

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* * *

"Hello, my name is Marcel Laurent. I am a correspondent for the Agence France Presse. Today, the AFP and our friends at the world famous news program 60 Minutes would like to bring you a very important story from one of the most remote areas of the world, the far eastern edge of French Polynesia."

The screen flashed a map of French Polynesia, showing that Tahiti was far to the west of the Gambiers and Tuamotus. Most people would be challenged to find French Polynesia on a map, let alone identify any of the smaller islands the country contained.

"Ten years ago, a cargo ship called the _Iriata_ set out from Tupua'i for Raivavae."

The screen showed a picture of the crew during a happier time, with Anapa and Hina front and center. Laurent explained how Rick had been part of the crew for nearly a year, and then mentioned the passengers they'd taken on, including a young Katherine Beckett, whose mother had been murdered in New York earlier that year.

"Through a tragic event and some horrible luck, the _Iriata_ foundered against a rock. So far off course that the inexperienced crew, whose captain and first mate had been left behind on Tupua'i, had absolutely no idea where they were. In the grip of a tremendous cyclone, the passengers and crew had no choice but to abandon ship."

Pictures of Tamahere, Tane and Grollet now took prominence, as he explained that they had been the only three people thought to have survived the event. A brief discussion of their rescue was next.

"Henri Grollet was adamant that he'd personally seen the bodies of Richard Castle and Katherine Beckett. By the time the survivors were found, no clear fix on the location of the shipwreck was possible. A cursory recovery mission was undertaken, but as it turned out the ships were simply looking in the wrong place. No trace of Richard Castle or Katherine Beckett was ever found, and their families were forced to declare them dead."

A pause, with a side by side picture of the two young people on the screen. Rick's was a professional head shot, used for his dust jackets, while Kate's was a candid from college. They both looked young and innocent, the expectation of many years yet untouched in front of them, gone in an instant.

"No trace that is, until a nearly dead man was found on a nearly sunken boat at the beginning of this year."

A picture of Rick on the day of his rescue was flashed next. It was horrifying to see the healthy young man from the previous picture reduced to this scrap of a human.

Laurent then detailed, quickly, how Rick had been charged with multiple counts of fraud when he claimed his name, and that he'd pled guilty.

"Thrown into Nuutania prison, he was there for several months. No one believed his story, and he'd been threatened with death if he ever tried to tell it again. Then, one fortuitous day, his former shipmate, Tamahere, wandered to the local town in search of food, and found a picture of his long dead shipmate in the paper. This set off the recent events, in which Tamahere hired a lawyer, Afaitu Tutomo, who in turn brought Richard's famous mother into the fray."

A few pictures of Rick's release were then shown. Rick and his mother, embracing. Afaitu speaking with him. Even a picture of him with Paula and Gina.

Thankfully, Rick had asked that no pics of Meredith be shown, and the AFP had granted this request. She didn't add to the story.

The last picture was a shot tightly framing Rick shaking hands with Grollet at the press conference when he'd been released. It was left on screen for a bit.

Laurent explained again that Rick had claimed he'd been alone for the previous decade and mentioned the description of the island he said he'd been marooned on.

"I am filming this special report on the very island that Richard Castle did live on for ten years."

The screen showed some of the shots of the island—the beautiful lake, the lush, verdant land, the waterfall. It looked like a paradise. The screen then flashed back to Laurent, showing him standing in front of a bamboo structure whose purpose was not easily identified. It was the second time he'd been shown on screen. The camera panned into him until his calm, grandfatherly face was all one could see.

"And, tonight, I have Richard Castle with me. He will share his story for the first time in its entirety. For it is not what it had seemed. Richard Castle did not live here alone. And he lied, on purpose, to the government officials of French Polynesia. His story, when we return."

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* * *

Celeste looked over at her sons and their wives. The kids were all down for the night already. She'd asked them over so that she wouldn't be alone tonight. She wasn't exactly sure what was going to happen. The only thing she knew for certain was that the people on the island had been able to complete the footage, and were safe as of a few hours ago. What had happened in the interim was not information she was privy to.

"What do you think?" she asked, to no one in particular.

"Is that where Jim went, on his mysterious trip?" Michael demanded.

"Yes. Martha was already there, as you know. Jim joined her a few days ago."

"I guess I'm not sure why he needed to be there," Karla remarked. "Unless he wanted to give her some support as a friend." Brandy and Michael nodded, agreeing. Puzzled as to why Jim would go so far away, leaving Celeste to deal with the business alone.

Nicholas remained unmoving. He was sitting nearest Celeste, and she could see he was working something out in his head. Turning to his mother, he asked the obvious question.

"Do you know who he was living with?"

Celeste regarded him steadily. "Not personally, no."

"Oh, it has to be a native. Like when the _Bounty_ mutinied and those men married native women," Michael called out.

Nicholas was still staring at her. "Was it a Polynesian that he was living with, Mom?"

Before she had a chance to shake her head, the familiar sound echoed through the room again.

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* * *

As the scene opened again on screens across the world, Richard Castle (or Rodgers, depending on where you lived) was shown sitting, relaxed, in a bamboo chair across from Laurent.

"Monsieur Castle, you gave quite the story at the press conference in Papeete after your release from Nuutania. You said you woke up from the wreck and just happened to put on a life jacket and somehow then made it to this island. Alone. Where you remained for ten years before deciding to seek help on a homemade boat. How much of that is actually true?"

Rick smiled. He was still an extremely handsome man, and the camera loved him. He knew just how to act in front of one, as well. Winking into the lens, he smirked.

"None of it."

"_None_ of it?!" exclaimed Laurent. "Really, M. Castle, how _do_ you account for such a thing?"

"I lied."

"You lied?"

"Yes."

"Why would you do such a thing?"

"It was, sadly, necessary. When I first woke up, I couldn't remember who I was or how I'd come to be on that boat. No one knew me, so I was given the name Jean Dupont. Within a week, I had remembered everything. That's why, when a local reporter asked, I told them my real name. This set in motion a firestorm that ended with the government of French Polynesia threatening me unless I were to drop my claims and plead guilty to the charges they'd brought against me."

"Threats? What kind of threats?"

"Death, to be perfectly frank."

"That seems extreme. Surely you just misunderstood them."

"No, it was no mistake. What's more, I knew why they wanted me dead. You see, I was very much alive when Henri Grollet found me unconscious in a bathroom. He had been quite unfriendly to me for most of the journey, and I believe when he found me there he saw an opportunity to be rid of me at last. He struck me in the head, hoping it would kill me, then abandoned me on the sinking ship, telling the others I was dead. After I was discovered alive, a decade later, I was also informed that the very same man who'd abandoned me was now the President of French Polynesia. What's more, his version of the shipwreck had turned him into a hero, and helped him gain political capital. Thus, he had the power and the motivation to keep me quiet, by any means necessary. I'd known he had the ability to kill, given how he'd left me."

"Those are very serious allegations, M. Castle. Yet, something about your story puzzles me. You were unconscious, after the shipwreck?"

"Yes. I'd been in my bunk, and awoke to a horrible sound and the sensation of flying through the air. Then, blackness until I woke again with a splitting headache and several tender lumps on my head."

"But, M. Castle, you understand that there will be many who would question your version of the events."

"Yes, I do. Which is part of the reason I felt forced to plead guilty. Who would believe me over the President?"

"You were unconscious, by your own account. How do you even know what happened? Perhaps M. Grollet really did think you were dead. How would you know he struck you if you weren't awake? It could be nothing more than an unfortunate mistake."

"I know exactly what happened to me, and I know that Grollet deliberately abandoned me. To keep that story suppressed, I knew Grollet would want me dead. He was safe only if I couldn't talk. So, I accepted the punishment and waited for a miracle. And my prayers were answered that day in March when Tamahere saw my picture in the paper and set in motion my release."

"And yet you said nothing of the truth, even after you were safe? After you were free? Why wait until now, days later? It seems too incredible to be true."

"Because I'm not the one who can testify against Grollet. As you said, I was unconscious at the time. I have no direct knowledge of his actions that day. But, I was protecting the one person who does. You see, Grollet bragged about what he was doing. Boasted that by cutting down on the number of people in the life raft, his odds of survival would increase. Spoke of how he'd hit me in the head. He confessed it all."

"To whom?"

"To the person I found locked in a cabin—deliberately imprisoned by Grollet. The person who survived with me on this very island, the person who helped me build a life here."

"Who, M. Castle?"

The camera slowly zoomed out, and the image of Kate gradually took shape, seated in a chair next to Rick.

"Kate Beckett," Rick replied. His head was turned, looking into Kate's eyes. They were both smiling, and it was very clear to all who saw them that they were in love.

"My wife. My life."

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* * *

Paula spun in her chair, twisting to face Gina. The blond woman looked pale, stunned. As stunned as Paula was feeling.

They were sitting in the restaurant's bar. Fortunately, it was press free currently, or Paula was certain they would have been inundated by this point.

It was quite early for drinking, by any measure, though after Ricky's last statement, Paula was all for declaring it five o'clock somewhere and ordering a stiff one. However, the glasses before them, with their condensate running down the sides and pooling on the rich mahogany bar top, contained nothing more than soda.

They'd been out walking—shopping was the name given to the activity, but Paula knew it was more like stalking. Looking for Ricky, Afaitu, Martha or Jim. Anyone would do.

Gina had hoped out loud that Ricky might be back from whatever he was doing with Kate Beckett. Yet, they'd seen none of them. They'd tried knocking on Martha's door, and called Jim's room from his hotel lobby. No one answered.

Giving up, they'd strolled back to their hotel, both quiet as they pondered what information they did know and tried to figure out what the hell was going on.

It had been the strange sight of small crowds gathering around TV sets in the small shops as they walked by that first cut through their reflections.

As they'd neared the hotel, they were astonished to see that there wasn't a reporter visible anywhere. But, there were more people crowding around a TV set up in the lobby, not to mention those pressing into the restaurant and bar.

"What is going on?" Paula demanded of one of the hotel employees as he slogged past, carrying folding chairs.

"They're about to broadcast a news conference."

"About what?" Paula knew press conferences. She would be over the moon if one she set up garnered a tenth of the attention this one seemed to be getting.

"I don't know exactly, but all the stations are carrying it. They say it has to do with the President."

She lost interest almost immediately. Clearly the Tahitians took their politics a whole lot more seriously than Americans did.

Shrugging at Gina, they'd skirted the crowd, trying to reach the elevator banks when a hush fell over the noisy mob.

"Turn it up," shouted someone.

The buzz from the closest set increased until she could hear it clearly, as it blared into the lobby. The second Rick Castle's name was mentioned brought both of them to a standstill.

They'd forced their way into the bar moments later. Ordered the sodas and watched in fascination as Ricky's ordeal after the shipwreck was laid bare.

While she knew that Kate Beckett was alive somewhere, and that Ricky had been looking for her, nothing could have prepared Paula for the sight of the woman. She was beautiful. No makeup, obviously in need of a salon visit ASAP. Yet, absolutely gorgeous.

She wasn't looking at the camera, but at Ricky. He appeared unable to take his eyes off of her, as well. As he pronounced their revealed the truth about their relationship to the world, all Paula could do was gape. Then twist her chair to Gina's.

"Whaddya think?" she asked, when the blonde remained silent.

Gina looked up at her, a smile growing wider and wider on her face. "I think we're gonna be staying here for a while longer," she replied. "And I think we're gonna make a ton of money."

* * *

Lanie sat, on the edge of the couch with tears streaming down her face. She was alive. Her friend was alive. It was unbelievable.

The warmth of Javi's hands on her shoulders leant her strength she needed to stay upright. The tickle of air past her ear as he whispered words of support kept her grounded.

He was still holding her up when she finally stirred, staring fearfully at the TV. Ads were still parading past; she hadn't missed anything.

"Lanie, are you ok?" Jenny's perky voice pierced the inane music from the current ad.

Lanie shook her head, trying to clear it so she could _think_. _Consider. Decide_ what to do.

"I thought she was dead. I thought she'd been dead this whole time, and she's not."

"You must be so thrilled, to see her after so much time," Jenny cried.

"I thought she was dead," Lanie repeated, toneless now that the shock was abating. "Baby, I thought I killed her," she sobbed to her husband. "But she was fine the whole time. She looks...happy."

"Lanie, chica. It's not like she didn't contact you on purpose. They were stranded."

"I know, baby, I know. It's just…I never thought I'd see her again. I thought I'd forced her on that vacation and that she'd died so far from home and it was all my fault. She never knew that justice was found for her mother, never got to see her dad sober and healthy. Never found true love, a life of her own. And all this time, she was ok."

"Chica, I'm pretty sure it wasn't wine and roses for them. Did you see the picture of that writer dude when he was found on that boat? He was close to death. And it seems like they're still in some danger, from that Grollet guy. Let's watch the rest before you jump to conclusions, ok?"

He was right. He was her rock, and normally…generally…Lanie Esposito was a logical, thoughtful person. The crushing guilt she'd carried for so many years had shifted, throwing her off balance. She was ready to shed the whole lot. Javi would help her. That, and seeing just what Kate had been up to since she'd waved goodbye to her at the airport gate would finally take away the hole in her heart that she'd carried since that awful day in December when the world had discovered that Rick Castle—and one Katherine Beckett—was dead.

* * *

"Capitaine, the helicopter is asking permission to land. The pilot says they are very low on fuel and cannot afford to wait."

Tissot grimaced. He'd hoped that Grollet and his minion would have decided to stay wherever it was they went and leave him alone for a while. No such luck.

They'd been holding position near Mangareva for hours. The _Vaitiare_ had long disappeared to the south, while the _Oriata_ was just making zig zags near some of the coral atolls. It was all very mysterious, though Stephane was not feeling very curious of late.

"They have permission," he acknowledged. "Have we any new orders?" he asked, knowing full well the flash traffic had been quiet.

"No, Capitaine."

Suppressing his disappointment, Tissot speculated about his next instructions. No doubt that Grollet would tell him what he wanted. Tissot would love to refuse, but then Grollet would just call the Vice-Amiral and force the issue.

"Please tell the flight crew I'd like to speak to the President as soon as he has time," he commanded, then resumed his examination of the local radar and the potential dangers to the ship. They rarely visited this area, so were unfamiliar with the local sea bed.

"Sir, the President has not returned."

Looking up sharply, Tissot peered at the flight deck monitor. The helicopter had already powered down.

"I can see the helicopter myself, Matelot Petit. It appears to be tied down and secured, unless you're implying that the cameras are not functioning?"

"No, sir. I mean, yes, sir, the helicopter has returned. However, when I relayed your request to speak to the President, the flight deck crew informed me that the President, M. Grollet, has not returned."

"What?"

"Yes, sir. Just the pilot and M. Tane."

Raking his hand through his hair, Tissot considered the strange information. Just what was the President playing at, here? And with his ship in the middle of it. His position was more untenable by the hour.

"Have someone escort M. Tane to my office," he ordered before trudging there as well. He was ready for some answers. And sick and tired of the bullshit politicians that kept playing fast and loose with his ship and his men. He would get to the bottom of this if it was the last act as Capitaine that he ever performed.

* * *

Grollet kicked at a loose coconut in his path.

Hobbling on one foot when the damn thing turned out to be much heavier than expected, he scuttled his way back to the buildings.

Cursing Tane for the thousandth time, he regarded his new home with disgust.

The buildings were weathered, rotting. It was clear they'd not been occupied by anything larger than a rodent for many, many years.

He'd discovered why when he slunk down to the lagoon for water a few hours ago.

It was salt water.

He'd not found any fresh water since.

Which had probably doomed whoever had tried to establish a presence here years before. Lack of fresh water was a deal breaker on many of the islands.

And now he was stuck here.

With nothing.

He'd found no supplies, no magical well full of fresh, clean water.

No food.

No phone.

No electricity.

Nothing.

Now he was going to die, just because he'd picked the wrong damn island.

It was so unfair.

He didn't want to stay out in the open, under the weight of the watching stars. Retreating back to the buildings seemed like a logical choice.

Never once did he think about the coconut he'd kicked having both liquid and solid nourishment contained inside. Easily accessed with a rock and a strong will.

It had just been another obstacle to him.

And he'd treated it as such.

* * *

**Ok, what do you think?**

**I've put pics of the shirts/dresses that the family wore during the interview on tumblr.**


	65. Chapter 65: Livin' On a Prayer

**This chapter is dedicated to the people of Peru, and my friends M.V.T. and E.V.K. in particular. One year ago today, I flew to Lima. I lived there for a month, going to a Spanish school for 4 weeks; immersing myself in the language and culture. It was one of the greatest adventures of my life. I didn't know anyone there when I left home, but I came back much richer in spirit and missing the piece of my heart that was left behind. ****¡Viva Peru, y ojalá que tenga un feliz mes morado! Gracias por todo.**

* * *

April, 2010

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"Welcome back. Just before our last break, we discovered that Richard Castle was not the only survivor left on the doomed _Iriata. _A young woman from New York, Katherine, or Kate, Beckett was a passenger. Please tell us how you came to be left behind, Mme. Beckett."

The camera established Kate as its sole focus for the first time. As she explained the utter treachery of Henri Grollet's actions those years ago, everyone watching marveled at her grace and beauty. Ten years on a tropical island had not had any detrimental effects that were easily seen.

Both she and Rick were thin, though he'd been able to regain most of his weight while incarcerated. She was tan, though not to the point of extreme skin damage. Her hair was gloriously long, hanging loose across her back and shoulders in waves. Her hazel eyes sparkled, in turns from anger and then from laughter as she recounted her rescue from the _Iriata _with Rick.

Yet beyond her physical beauty, there was a sense of strength and grace that most people lacked. She was calm, self-confident, and well spoken. When she spoke of her husband, it was with warmth in her voice that was unmistakable in its love and affection.

They were a remarkable couple. One that was instantly granted sympathy and support as the world heard of their torment at the hands of the man who went on to become President.

It was sensational news; even the metropolis of New York found itself charmed by the couple. They playfully recounted their courtship, explaining that Kate had initially been unimpressed with Rick's attempts to woo her.

They skipped over any in depth discussion of her mother's murder—not avoiding it entirely, but not focusing on it, either. It was obvious that it upset her to discuss it, and it wasn't a detail that needed to be dealt with in depth.

Laurent wanted to know all about the building of the house and other structures. Rick was happy to oblige, showing briefly on camera how he'd structured the bamboo for building and describing the process of thatching.

There were pictures shown of the house from the outside, then the empty kitchen. Everyone watching, snug in their own homes, were struck by the work that the two had been forced to do just to have a dry place to live.

Finally, they described Rick's proposal, showing the rings he'd carved hanging from the cords around their necks, then detailing the wedding night arbor. The picture they painted with their words alone was charming. The world was falling in love with Rick and Kate.

"It is remarkable, is it not, that you lived here—the two of you—for ten years. So many things could have happened. Illness, accidents, drought, natural disaster. Yet you survived through your sheer will to live. I would imagine that it these trials and tribulations have molded you into a couple that could withstand nearly anything."

"Like my disappearing on a boat for almost six months, without Kate knowing what had happened to me?"

"Exactly. You must have been terrified for him, Kate."

"I was. I still have trouble believing he's back," she remarked, as the couple smiled at each other once again. The camera had panned back far enough that everyone watching could see that they were holding hands as they were interviewed.

"What kept you going during that horrible time?"

"I could still feel him in my heart. I was sure he was still out there, still fighting for us. That he'd come back. And I had to be strong. I had to take on both of our duties."

Laurent dropped the bombshell. "You had to be strong for your children?"

"Yes," Kate agreed. "They were what kept me sane during that time."

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* * *

"Did she just—did they just say children?" gasped Gina.

Paula nodded, too overcome to say anything.

The whole bar had fallen silent, then someone repeated one word.

"Children."

A huge cheer rent the air. Polynesians are a romantic people; they enjoy a good love story, but they absolutely adore children. This interview was everything they could have ever hoped for.

"Children," Gina echoed. She looked over at Paula, who still had her mouth agape, staring at the screen as if her very life depended on it.

"Paula," Gina called. Without a response, she became more aggressive. Shaking her friend about the shoulders until Paula finally looked away from the TV and glared at her.

"What?" she snarled.

"Paula, this story is gonna be huge," exulted Gina. "And we're gonna be right in the middle."

* * *

A fluttering hand rose to touch quivering lips. Lanie's eyes closed, shutting out the stares cast her way.

Kate Beckett was a mother.

Lanie had encouraged…demanded, truly…that Kate go away, escape from her profound grief. Escape from her non-functioning father.

In the process, Kate had been lost—lost to Lanie, lost to the life she had dreamt of pursuing.

Dead.

She'd been dead.

But now, Lanie had discovered that not only had she survived—in the process somehow looking more beautiful than ever—then met and married the very man who saved her life, but she'd also had a child.

No, that wasn't quite right.

She'd said children.

Lanie couldn't reconcile the image she had of waving goodbye to the friend she'd known—a broken, exhausted woman—to this happy, joyful person.

This woman traded soft touches and caresses with her husband, not seeming to realize the camera captured it all.

This woman glowed with life.

This woman was not someone she knew.

The self-loathing Lanie had carried for ten years wasn't easily visible. Javi had helped her beat it into submission; made her realize that she'd not been directly responsible for Kate's death, no matter how it'd felt to her.

Perhaps she had overstepped her role as a friend, been too…managerial. But she'd not intended for Kate to experience anything other than a self-renewing vacation.

In her darkest hours, she'd tried to imagine what would have happened to Kate if she'd never said anything. That she'd stood by and supported her when Kate entered the NYPD Academy that January, as planned. Would she have achieved her goal of becoming a detective? Perhaps she would have known Javi, or Kevin.

Maybe she'd have worked with Lanie on cases. Could Kate have been a good cop, or would her mother's murder overshadow her life beyond the burden of that first year when Jim was trying to pickle himself and Kate was so closed off?

Yet, Lanie knew that without the immense interest in the death of Rick Castle, and by extension Kate Beckett, that Johanna's murder would have been left as a simple stabbing in an alleyway. What was it initially labeled? Oh, yes: random gang violence.

The Klieg lights of curiosity—public and press—had burned into Kate's life. An old high school boyfriend was unearthed and quoted, saying she'd been a "nice girl." Teacher's opinions sought. Old pictures splashed across folds.

The discovery of a murdered mother, the resultant grief, and then the unveiling of a plastered Jim Beckett on his porch had twisted the intensity higher and higher, until the whole conspiracy resulting in Johanna's murder had exploded. One good thing that had come of Kate's death, or so Lanie thought. The life of a greedy politician and the ugly underbelly of the police force exposed.

The trials had gripped the city for a long time, and might have continued to be front page fodder. That is until the sight of two jetliners flying into the Twin Towers, and their subsequent immolation, came to symbolize the day a nation's complaisance to its own security was abruptly destroyed.

Lanie had learned to live with the guilt. Javi had been her anchor. She might have been happy to be a single, professional woman on the loose in Manhattan had things been different.

Kate's death had shredded any desire Lanie might have had to live that kind of life. She craved a relationship, the love of a man who she respected and could build a life with. Kate hadn't had that chance, and Lanie had studied the example well. Life is short, and you never know what lies in store. She'd grabbed Javi's hand tightly once she realized he was what she wanted, and they'd not let go of each other since.

Yet, now she was told it was all based on a falsity. Kate Beckett was alive.

And the majority of Lanie Esposito, by far the biggest part of her, was absolutely thrilled by the news. That Lanie wanted nothing more than to jump to her feet, run out into the street and scream for joy. Shout up and down the blocks that her friend was alive and well.

But…but. There was a tiny part of her—the piece of her heart that surrounded the remaining kernel of self-loathing that she bore in her heart—that was cursing, crying, pounding the walls in fury.

Because Kate Beckett was alive.

Had been alive this whole time.

Which meant that Lanie Esposito had been carrying a burden that had never belonged to her.

* * *

Meredith stretched, luxuriating in the expensive sheets that covered her hotel room bed. Despite everything that had happened on this trip, she had to admit that she'd been treated like a queen. Well, by the hotel and the press, at least.

She'd spent the morning once again wandering around the shops. The French influence was evident in all the boutiques, though the South Pacific location added a unique twist. It was an intoxicating combination to someone who loved to shop.

And Meredith did love to shop.

She also loved attention, but that aspect of her day had been disappointing, to say the least. Nary a reporter had been in sight as she'd strutted from store to store.

Returning to the hotel for an afternoon siesta had been a great decision. She felt refreshed and ready to take on the challenge of looking her best for the evening, while pretending she was just casually wandering around.

She'd bought the cutest dress in one of the boutiques, certain it would command attention from all the men (and some of the women) who had the luck to see her in it.

Stretching once more, she slipped to the edge of the bed and reached for the remote. Silence was not well tolerated; she preferred to have a TV or radio blaring in the background when she was alone.

Silence was a state that encouraged introspection, and that was not a practice that Meredith entered into very often.

Or voluntarily.

Flipping on the TV to one of the local channels, she headed to the bathroom to shower and begin the process of applying makeup in an artful, but studiously casual, manner.

Her progress to the shower arrested as she halted mid stride, stumbling in the doorway, clutching the frame for support as the words of the interview being conducted pierced her skull.

Rick. Rick was speaking.

Why was he on TV?

Why was he on TV without her?

Spinning in place, she darted back to the bed, collapsing on the end with her eyes glued to the screen in front. Rick—clearly Rick—was seated in a bamboo chair, discussing his time on a desert island.

All of which he'd mentioned at the press conference she'd attended a few days before. Why was this such news that it merited a special broadcast?

That question was answered shortly, when her racing heart was trying to pump blood to warm up the spreading ice roiling from her belly. When Rick proclaimed he'd not been alone on the island, confirming, to Meredith, that he'd been joined there by Kate Beckett.

The ice in her middle grew, however, when he declared that she was, in fact, his wife. Given that they were alone, it wasn't legal.

Still.

Wife.

Meredith then had to be subjected to the image of Kate as the camera zoomed out to include her in the shot with Rick.

To Meredith's eternal frustration, she looked halfway decent. Perhaps even beautiful, though she'd only admit that under threat of torture.

She stared at the image of the woman. The camera showed the couple holding hands, all love and touch. As an actress, Meredith knew the value of non-verbal interactions. They appeared to be in love. Was it the truth?

Kate Beckett was stunning, even after years of island living. However, she was far from polished. She wouldn't be able to stand up to the scrutiny of the world for long, Meredith was certain. It would be to Meredith's distinct advantage to pretend to befriend the woman, let Rick see the two women next to each other. With Meredith's grace and natural way with the press, he'd soon realize that Kate Beckett might be suited for island life, but his true partner for the glare of the spotlight would be Meredith.

As she plotted and planned, she missed the majority of what Rick and Kate were discussing during the interview. It wasn't until the show returned from its third commercial break that Meredith discovered that separating Rick and Kate might not be as attractive as she'd been considering it to be.

She had no desire to be a stepmother.

* * *

"Well, I guess we all know why Jim went to Tahiti," Michael commented. The stupefied looks of the others told him they were as shocked as he was.

"Mom? Did you know about this?" Nicholas asked. He'd paused the TV, ensuring silence from the ads and preventing them from missing anything while they discussed what they'd just seen.

Celeste shook her head. "I—no. No. I—I knew some things. That Katie had survived, with Richard. That they were in love, and that they'd married and had a baby. I don't know anything else."

"Well, that seems to be quite a lot. When did you find out?" Nicholas demanded.

"Just before Richard was set free, when Martha went to Tahiti. Richard's lawyer came to tell her about his being alive and to beg her help in setting him free. Richard had written some of their story down, and the lawyer brought it with him. He never intended to find Jim, but had no idea that Jim was now Martha's manager. Jim and Martha found out together that their children were alive, then Jim told me. We were allowed to read what Richard had written."

"But why didn't you tell us?" Brandy inquired. It was a question all of them wanted to know the answer to.

"I wanted to, believe me. Jim wanted to, as well. But the lawyer, Afaitu, was very convincing of the danger. Katie hadn't been found yet—you heard how Richard was missing for nearly 6 months from her. French Polynesia is not a large country; Richard was terrified that the President would find out about her and find her first."

"I don't see how that has anything to do with us," muttered Michael darkly. "We're in New York, not French Polynesia."

"Yes, you're right," Celeste replied. "But, the stakes were so high. You heard how Grollet tried to kill them the first time. Ten years ago, it was the act of a coward, maybe a psychopath. But ten years later, the psychopath was president. Much more to lose. Afaitu and Richard were adamant that as few people were told as possible."

"But, we're family. What harm could we do?" persisted Michael.

"I can understand their concern," Karla interjected. She blushed when everyone turned inquiring eyes on her. "This is not some little secret, like what we're getting the kids for Christmas. This was a race—for life or death. Richard finds her and saves her. Grollet finds her and kills her. He must have been terrified, not sure who he could trust. I can see why he wouldn't want just anyone to know."

"But.."

"Michael, we are family, of a sort, to her. But we've never actually met her and she doesn't even know about us, yet," Nicholas interrupted his brother. "We are essentially strangers to all of them. You were right, mom, to not tell us. I'm just glad we'll get the opportunity to finally meet her, and her family."

Celeste sighed in relief. She'd been so worried about everything; Jim would have been devastated had Richard not rescued Katie. Now she knew that it would all eventually be right. They'd be one big family, made stronger for the love they all felt for one another.

* * *

Tickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktick

Laurent's face reappeared on the screen. "Just before we finished the last segment, you heard Katherine Beckett Castle tell me that she had to be strong for her children while Rick Castle was missing."

The camera switched back to Rick and Kate, still sitting in their side by side chairs, still holding hands.

"Mme Castle, how many children do you have?"

"We have three. Two boys and a girl."

"Would it be possible to meet them?"

"Sure," Rick said, while Kate just nodded. Rick squeezed her hand.

Rick stood, going off camera for a second, then came back holding Sarah. Alex and Patrick trailed behind. Rick handed Sarah to her mother. They both knew that was the safest bet for a full interview. She'd been content to be watched by Salesi, but wouldn't let even the boys' favorite new person to hold her.

Rick sat down again in his chair, while Alex and Patrick sat cross legged in front of their parents.

"And just who do we have here, M. Castle?"

"This is my oldest son, Alex. He's 9. Patrick is 6, but turns 7 in June. And Sarah is just over a year old."

The boys simply sat and stared at their new friend, Laurent, and the cameras. They'd been told not to speak unless their mother or father asked them to say something. Even Sarah knew to sit still at the command of her mother. They'd taught the kids from infancy to sit still for longer and longer periods of time as they grew older. It was essential in a canoe.

"You have a very handsome family, M. Castle. Is there anything you'd like to say, boys?"

"Alex, go ahead and tell people your name and what you like to do," Rick encouraged.

"My name is Alexander Joseph Anapa Rodgers and I—I like to swim and help my mom."

Laurent chuckled. "Very good. And Patrick?"

"It's ok, Patrick," Kate urged.

"My—my name is Patrick Owen Raiari'i Rodgers. I like to—I like to swim, too. I'm real good at it. And I help mommy with Sarah, and I can go all by myself to get fruit and co'nuts. I know the ones that're ready to eat from the bad ones."

Laurent couldn't help but laugh as the boy bounced a bit in his excitement. Patrick's enthusiasm was easily captured on film.

"Thank you, Patrick. What about the baby. What is her full name?"

Rick answered. "This is Sarah Katherine Eevanui Rodgers."

"And why Rodgers, and not Castle?"

Rick explained that Rodgers was his legal name.

"Yes, and here in French Polynesia, you are best known as Rodgers, correct?"

Laurent got an assent from Rick, then continued in the same vein, "Yet, on this program I have persisted in calling you M. Castle. This is because most people are more familiar with that name, and this broadcast will be going out all over the world."

"We appreciate that, M. Laurent. It is only through the world knowing our story, and that we are in fact both alive, with a family to protect, that we will be safe. I have raced here, with the help of some very good friends and with this news crew to find my family. I have found them safe, and to keep them this way the world must know our story. Thank you for helping us."

"M. Castle, it is I who must thank all of you. I have covered many stories throughout my career—some very important to all that call this planet home. None have been as satisfying or as exciting to me as this journey has been. I was absolutely thrilled when we found that your family was safe, and I know I speak for both myself and my crew that we are very grateful to have played a small role in reuniting you with your wife and children."

Rick nodded. Kate, whose eyes were brimming with tears, added, "Thank you, M. Laurent. I am by nature a private person, but I want to thank you for the assistance you've provided my husband in finding us. I will be forever in your debt for helping Rick keep our children safe."

The camera remained on the family as the boys then stood and climbed into their father's lap. They were speaking to each other, but the audience could not hear what they were saying. The love of the entire family for each other was on full display as Rick played with them, grinning at Kate as they all spent some precious time together.

Laurent's voice sounded over the scene, as he drew the program to a close.

"In 1999, these two were reported to have died in a tragic shipwreck. They were able to survive, through hard work, ingenuity, and determination. It has not been an easy life. They have had to work every day to ensure they have food on the table. They built their entire world on this island by hand. In the process they fell in love, and started a family. We might never have learned their story save for the chance encounter of Rick Castle and a Chinese crew shipping copra. Yet, we have learned their story, and what a tale it is! We now know the truth of what happened those many years ago. An injustice was carried out by an evil man at that time. He was rewarded for it, while they have suffered the loss of their families, of their place in the world. Surely no one can now stand by quietly to watch the same evil man try to perpetrate an even greater injustice. Rick Castle and Katherine Beckett Castle deserve better. I hope you'll join me and the AFP in demanding that this family is safe from further harm. Thank you."

Tickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktick

* * *

Jim sagged back onto the bed. He'd been sitting next to Martha as they watched the program. She'd clutched his hand when the boys had appeared on screen; her only audible response was a gasp.

Watching Katie appear, looking happy and healthy, had given him a measure of relief. A definite reduction in the acid churning in his stomach. He'd known since the phone call that she was safe, but to see her image, hear her voice, after such a long time—it was an indescribable feeling.

But then—then—his grandchildren appeared. A deep love for these three children that he'd never met came over him immediately. He could see some of both Richard and Katie in each. Alex seemed to have Katie's natural reticence, though Patrick looked a bit more like her. Sarah looked like a real blend of the two.

Martha's breath hitched next to him, and he was drawn out of his reverie.

"You ok?"

She half-sobbed, "Yes."

"They look like wonderful kids, Martha."

"That they do, Jim. I've missed so much, especially of the boys' lives. I feel a bit cheated."

"You'll make up for it. But we'll have to give them a chance to know us. This is going to be a huge change for them all, even for us."

"I know, I know. I just want to rush over there and smother them with hugs. I just can't wait."

Jim gave her a small, sad smile. "You probably won't have long to wait. I'm sure they'll let you meet them soon."

Martha wasn't distracted enough to miss his double meaning. "You don't think they'll let you in?"

"You heard Katie's voice on the phone, asking who I was. Richard will have to explain sooner or later, and the process will start. I do have some hope that she's forgiven me more than I thought she had."

"What do you mean?"

"You heard the boys names? Alexander Joseph and Patrick Owen?"

"Yes. I was thrilled. They used Alexander, which I've always loved so much. Richard threatened once to change his name permanently to Richard Edgar Castle, and I was so upset. But, he never did it officially. I think he was just trying to get me angry."

"Well, I hope that those names mean that Katie's thawed just a bit towards me. Ten years is a long time, and she doesn't really know me anymore."

"What in particular makes you think she's thawed a bit?"

"Owen is my middle name."

* * *

**Appreciate your thoughts.**


	66. Chapter 66: Turning Points

**This c****hapter is dedicated to KC-BamaGirl for all her enthusiastic comments and musings. I haven't had time to respond to comments much recently...see the note at the end of the chapter explaining why. Hope you all like this chapter; I actually awoke this morning from a nightmare in which I posted this update and was universally booed by everyone reading it. I can remember bits and pieces of it-apparently I took the story in some direction that everyone hated. LOL, the insecurities of a writer over her/his fic.  
**

* * *

April, 2010

Tissot sighed, rubbing his face absently as he paced. His office wasn't large, but it gave enough room for him to attempt to wear a hole to the lower deck.

His discussion with Tane had been less than helpful. The man claimed that Grollet was visiting another location, that the secrecy behind the helicopter ride they'd taken this morning was necessary to throw the press off the scent of the trail.

It was a story that might have held up, save one small blunder. Or, rather, a large one. Grollet could manipulate the press in any fashion he desired. Tissot had been under the impression that the President was seeking the press, which is why they'd been ordered to chase after the cargo ships. It made absolutely no sense to commandeer a naval ship only to use it to helo to some island to avoid press. Something stank here.

Unfortunately, there was little he could do at the moment. Grollet himself had voluntarily left the ship, in the helo. Grollet had been the one to refuse pointedly to file a flight plan. Grollet had been the one to place himself in the company of Tane and the helo pilot, both of whom claimed, separately, that Grollet was on some ridiculous secret mission. Without knowing where the man went, and unlikely to get it out of the two who'd returned, Tissot was stuck.

Stuck or not, he was not eager to call in their current report to the base. He couldn't help but think that it looked like he'd lost the President of the country. Not a proud moment.

Gathering himself, he walked back to the bridge and resumed command from his _Lieutenant de vaisseau_.

Ensuring all was well, he asked his _Maître_ in charge of communications to inform Papeete that Grollet had left the ship, was apparently not expected back, and that they required further instructions. The brief return acknowledging their communication gave permission to return to port.

Tissot heaved a sigh of relief, and gave orders immediately to turn and head to their original destination. It was now past 4 in the afternoon. At cruising speed, they could expect to be in Tahiti within 2 days.

Big smiles and a bounce in the step of the crew demonstrated how they felt about the news. Everyone was more than ready to get to port and have much needed down time.

* * *

"Capitaine, capitaine," cried the sailor monitoring the comm. "Urgent flash message for you, sir. It's from….from Paris."

If nothing else caught the attention of a naval man, an urgent message from French Naval Headquarters certainly would.

"My office, immediately," Tissot barked. Paris was 12 hours ahead of Papeete, which made it just past 6 a.m. in France. This could be nothing good; he'd never received an urgent message from Headquarters. Questions regarding terrorist attacks, massive natural disasters and the like flitted through his head.

Snatching the message from the _Aspirant_ that ran it to him, he dismissed the man with a quick salute before tearing the message open.

Eyes narrowed in confusion soon gave way to flaring nostrils and veins popping out of his neck. Clenching the message with fists shaking, he took some deep breaths to control himself. Once he'd mastered the immediate urge to punch the desk, he called for an attendant.

He did not use the intercom.

He did not need to.

The _Matelot_ who appeared in front of him snapped to attention and awaited Tissot's orders. Beads of sweat running down the man's face went unnoticed by the Capitaine, who stomped back and forth in front of his own desk.

"Sir?" came out in a squeak.

"Do you know the whereabouts of our passenger, Tane?" snapped the captain.

"No, sir. I imagine he is in his cabin or in the mess hall, sir."

"Have the head of security sent to me at once. After you've delivered my order, report to the mess hall and ascertain if Tane is there. If he is not, find him. Once found, do not leave his area until security arrives. Is that clear, _Matelot_?"

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed."

The security officer appeared no more than 7 minutes later. Tissot knew, as he'd been keeping an eye on the time.

"Sir?"

"Your orders are to find the man known as Tane on this ship. I've sent a matelot to hunt him down. You are to take him into custody and place him in the brig. After he is secure, do the same with the helicopter pilot. I will be down to the brig in approximately 1 hour to interview Tane. Do you understand?"

"It's all clear, sir."

"Good. Carry on."

They separated, Tissot heading to the bridge to give orders to turn the ship around once more. They were heading back to where they'd come from.

However, this time Tissot was looking forward to traveling away from Papeete.

* * *

5 hours earlier

"What do we do now?" Kate asked, as the crew shut down the cameras.

"Now? Now we wait," Laurent replied.

"We just sit here and wait for something to happen? That seems rather…anticlimactic," Kate huffed. Her clenched jaw and bouncing foot spoke volumes.

"Mme. Rodgers," Laurent began.

"Kate. Just call me Kate, please."

He smiled. "Thank you, that is easier. Kate, we must wait. I know it is hard to take, with the threat looming over you, but we've just finished filming. We've uploaded it to Paris, where they will do quick edits and put it all together. It will then be sent to your country's 60 Minutes, and to whatever other news organizations wish to broadcast the story. Our job, in the meantime, is to be patient and wait."

"I don't like our job. What if something were to happen between now and the broadcast?"

"Unfortunately, it is a risk we run. We've delivered to them the story, in the shortest time feasible. This was always going to be a dangerous period."

"Kate," Rick called, "I have an idea."

She turned to her husband, comforted once again at the sound of his voice and the sight of him, standing next to her. He reached out and stroked the side of her head. They were both finding it difficult to stop touching the other constantly.

"What's your idea, Rick?"

"I think we should put you and the kids into hiding, until we get word back that the story has broken and we're all safe."

"Where would we hide? There's nowhere to go."

"There is one place. One place where I doubt anyone would look for you. The waterfall."

Nodding her head slowly, Kate considered the plan. They'd only ever used the cave under the falls as storage and a refuge from bad storms. Both boys had been taught how to enter it safely, and where the supplies were located in case something happened to their parents. Fortunately, it had never been knowledge they'd had to use.

"You're right, it's hidden. Probably the safest place we've got. Ok, boys. Alex, Patrick," she called. The two were playing some sort of tag that involved sneaking up to Salesi, who pretended he didn't see or hear them coming, touching him on the shoulder, then running away as fast as they could while Salesi tried to grab them.

"_Mal'chiki , seychas_ !" The snap in her voice got their attention as much as the command.

"_Da, mama_," Alex answered.

"Go back to the house and take off the clothes you're wearing. We're gonna go sit in the cave for a while, ok?"

"Ok," the two boys shouted together. This all seemed like a huge lark to them. Spending time in the cave, which seemed so mysterious and exotic, was yet another treat.

"Are you going to come, too?" she asked Rick.

Nodding, he grasped her hand again. "I couldn't stay away from you if I tried. Besides, we need to talk about some things before we get off this island. Might as well do it while we're waiting."

A piercing look let him know that she wouldn't let that kind of statement go unnoticed.

"Go change, Kate. I'll settle things with Laurent; show him where we'll be. I'll be right behind you to change out of these," he replied, indicating the new clothes he'd worn for the interview.

Fifteen minutes later, he'd shown both Salesi and Laurent the path to the waterfall and explained (unnecessarily) about the cave.

"We know about the cave, Rick," Salesi intoned.

"How could you? You've never been here."

"You wrote about it. You almost kissed Kate there, the first time."

"Oh…yeah. I forgot you'd both read that," Rick managed, blushing. He'd written about a lot of things that had happened to them that first year on the island. Yet another little tidbit of unwelcome news for his wife to hear.

"Anyway, once you hear back from Paris, just send someone in to let us know it's safe."

Once that was taken care of, he headed back to the house to help Kate with the kids—two excited boys and a somewhat cranky baby were not easy to handle alone. They'd made their way to the waterfall, Rick ecstatic as Sarah let him carry her the whole way. She was definitely coming around to him. Kate helped the boys negotiate the narrow underwater path, then disappeared herself.

Sarah was not a fan of being left alone with her father, so he quickly joined the others in the cave. Alex was already hard at work with a fire bow, and in no time they had a fire going. Rick swallowed hard; the lump in his throat both pride at his son's expertise and guilt that he'd left them all alone for so long.

"Whadda we do now?" Patrick wanted to know. A bit too loudly, as his voice echoed in the small space.

Sarah started screaming, which didn't help matters one bit. Handing her to Kate so she could soothe her, Rick turned to the boys.

"We have to remember to talk softly in here, ok?" he asked, looking at their earnest faces.

"Sorry, daddy," Patrick scuffed his foot on the sand.

"It's ok, Patrick. Just remember that a small chamber like this will echo. Now, I brought a bag with me," Rick continued. He reached for the small backpack he'd stuffed into his duffel bag with all their clothes. Opening it, he pulled out two notebooks.

"These are for you boys," he said, handing one to each boy.

"What are they, daddy?" Alex asked, almost hesitant to touch the brightly colored cover. Patrick had snatched his and had already flipped it open.

"It's paper," he shrieked, sending Sarah into fresh hysterics and earning a sharp "_Uspokoit'sya_" from Kate.

"Sorry, daddy, sorry," whined the boy.

"You have to remember to be quiet, or I'll have to hold onto the notebook for you until you calm down. Understood?"

A small nod was enough to show him that Patrick was paying attention.

"Now, the notebooks are full of blank paper. They are for you boys to write in or draw in, whatever you want."

"All this paper is for us?" Alex marveled. His beaming face suddenly fell.

"What's the matter, Alex?"

"We don't have any ink in here, and all the 'danus brushes are in the kitchen."

"What if I told you that you don't need ink or Pandanus brushes to make markings?"

Both boys looked at him in anticipation as he reached into his bag once more. Pulling out two pens, he handed one to each child.

"Those are pens, and you click the top like this," he explained, showing them how to bring the tip down. "It has ink inside of it already, so you can just start writing with it. Hold it like you would if you were writing in the sand with a stick."

Both boys had wide smiles on their faces, and Rick could almost hear the squeals they'd have made if they hadn't been so cognizant of the need to be quiet in the cave.

"Now, I want you two to practice writing with the pens. You can draw with them too, but what I'd like you to do once you're used to them is write down things you like about living on the island. Then write down things you'd like to do when you leave here. And finally, things that you think are important to bring with us."

"We're gonna be leaving?" Alex asked, eyes wide. Rick couldn't see well enough in the flickering light from the flames if he was excited or scared. Or both.

"Yes, son. We'll be leaving at some point. But you'll be with your mom and me. We aren't going to do anything without telling you, and we'll explain it all as it happens. Ok?"

A small nod was the only answer he received. "Well, you guys keep practicing, and I'm gonna go talk to your mommy."

He stood and walked around the fire to the other side of the cave. Kate was seated on the ground, leaning against the back wall. Sarah appeared to have fallen asleep while nursing.

"She ok?" he asked as he settled next to her, pulling her in tight to his side.

"Yeah, she will be," Kate answered, relaxing into the warmth of his body.

"They're very excited by the notebooks I brought them."

"Well, they've never had paper like that. And so much of it."

"Kinda makes me sad. There's so much that we just couldn't give them," Rick reflected.

"Babe, we did our best, under the circumstances. They're great kids, and while they're gonna be a bit overwhelmed at times by all that the modern world has to offer, they're still gonna be Patrick and Alex. They aren't gonna blame us for not giving them a bike, or a basketball. They're both smart enough to know we made do with what we had. I imagine it's a lesson a lot of kids could stand to learn."

"You're right, as always. I just hope they aren't so blinded by what the modern world has to offer that they forget how they grew up here."

"I don't think we're gonna have to worry about that, honestly, Rick. Alex, in particular, is old enough to know what he really needs and what he just wants. And I think Patrick will follow his brother."

"Ok, I'll relax. You're a pretty smart woman, Mrs. Rodgers, you know it?"

"Well, I'm not so sure I'm especially smart. However, I do have a good memory, and I believe you said we'd talk. Now seems like a great time."

Rick felt his heart rate spike. This was going to be an unpleasant conversation.

"You heard a lot of Tamahere's tale, when we talked late this morning. And you heard about my charges, sentencing and jail time."

Kate nodded, her hair rubbing against his chest. Lord, how he'd missed this woman.

"I mentioned that my lawyer, Afaitu, had me start writing our story down. I had plenty of time, sitting in my cell or in the common area all day with nothing to do. It was a way to explain it all, and honestly I wasn't sure I was going to survive. I figured that if something happened to me, then at least there'd be a record of all we'd gone through. Maybe someone smarter than me could figure out where you and the kids were. I don't know how to explain it exactly, but that's how I thought of it, initially."

His pounding heart beneath her head gave away his nervousness.

"What about later?" she asked.

"Later? Later it became a way of venting my anger, my frustrations with my situation. A way to reflect on my love for you. A way to remember all that we'd gone through, make a permanent record to our life together. It became much more than a narrative. It was a love letter to you, though nothing explicit, of course."

Kate hummed. She'd not had the privilege of seeing him writing in all the years she'd been with him, but could imagine the way he'd get lost in it. He had a laser focus that, when employed, allowed him to concentrate in a way that she'd rarely seen in others.

"Afaitu had to come up with a way to get me out. I didn't have any ideas; if I had, I wouldn't have still been in jail, unable to get to you. I was desperate, which must be why I agreed to go along with his next part of the plan."

"What was that?"

"For him to go visit my mother in New York."

Kate couldn't help but laugh at the incredulity in his voice. "You didn't think she'd help?"

"I wasn't sure. I'd tried contacting her from jail, only to meet with silence. Afaitu thinks that any letters I tried to send were intercepted, and now that we know who we were up against, I suppose that makes sense. But, there was still this hurt inside that she didn't seem to care."

"It just seemed like that, babe. She's your mother. Of course she cares."

"Kate, you've never met her," he replied, gently. "She's not a normal mother."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, you knew she was an actress?"

Kate nodded. She remembered him telling her that, long ago.

"Well, it seems her fortunes changed for the better after I disappeared. She won a Tony award, then went on to win 2 Academy Awards."

Kate sucked in a sharp breath. "Really? Wow. I don't—I don't know what to say."

"Yeah, well, I'm as surprised as you. Hard to imagine my mother, of all people, as a famous actress. But, she is wildly successful it seems. Afaitu really struggled to get close enough to her to tell her I was still alive. He almost got thrown out by her security, when her manager intervened."

"Do you know her manager?"

Rick grimaced, though Kate didn't see it. She did hear his heart thud faster, but didn't know what it meant.

"No, no I don't. It's actually a husband/wife team. They manage a bunch of stars, apparently."

"So, this manager…"

"Jim."

"J—Jim. He helped Afaitu with Martha?"

"Yes. And once Afaitu gave her my note, she knew I was alive. They then made plans for her to come to Tahiti. She did a few days later, after wrapping things up in the city. I'm told the day she arrived, she and Afaitu pulled off a real cloak and dagger operation. He got her in to see me, then the two of them left the prison and made their way to a press briefing that Afaitu arranged. Martha, my mother, the world-famous actress, proclaimed to the press that I was alive and being held without just cause in the prison."

"That must have set off quite a ruckus."

"Yep. I was released the next day, and taken to the hotel where my mother was staying. There, Afaitu showed me how to search for the island. That's all I was thinking of, the whole time, Kate. Getting back to you. Back to the kids. I feel like I was losing my hold on reality, not knowing if you were all ok. The minute I was free, I was searching for you."

"Did Grollet do anything?"

"Oh, he attended the press conference. He'd been monitoring the situation as the press exploded all over it, and so he was the one to grant me amnesty. I had to shake his hand, in front of everyone. That was really hard to do, but I just kept picturing you and I knew I'd put up with anything to see your face again."

"What happened next?"

"Well, I'd like to say that we left immediately to find you, but that isn't how it went. First of all, the press was all over me. They were very excited to find out I was alive, after all this time. We're going to have to really consider how we go about coming back to the rest of the world, as I have a feeling once people finally see us outside of that interview, we're gonna be hounded by the press. They'll eat you up, our relationship will be hashed over, and the kids…they're gonna go nuts over the kids."

"I already dread it."

"I know. It just couldn't be helped. Yet another thing to lay at the feet of Grollet."

"You're right. I just wish they'd forget about us."

"Little chance of that, Kate. But it's even more complicated. Do you remember my ex-girlfriend, Meredith?"

"The one who slept with her director in your bed?"

"Yep, that's the one."

"What does she have to do with anything?"

"Well, she showed up right after I was freed. She's going around claiming we're still an item."

"What?"

This time it was Kate's voice that echoed through the cavern. The boys just looked up briefly, then went back to writing in their notebooks. Fortunately, Sarah slept through it all.

"She's crazy, what can I say? I'm pretty sure she's just after all the attention and press that are surrounding me right now. I've certainly not given her any reason to think that we're together. However, she's not the only woman from my old life who showed up."

"What does that mean?" snarled Kate. This time she didn't yell, but the menace in her voice was unmistakable.

"Gina and Paula are here too. My editor and book agent. It was quite a shock to me, believe me, when I saw them all. Luckily, Afaitu had the idea to sort of play them off each other. Make it look like I was in the middle of a jealous cat fight. That way, when I disappeared to find you, the press would think I was hiding from them."

"And did this Gina and Paula have hopes of landing you in their beds as well?"

"What? No. Definitely not. However, they are friends, of a sort—certainly business people. And I'm their business. So, they were willing to play along. We couldn't tell them what I was really after—namely you—but they helped."

"So all these people are waiting back on Papeete for you?"

"And you too, or they will be waiting for you once the broadcast has aired. We couldn't mention you before I was sure you were safe. I was terrified that Grollet would figure it all out and get to you first. But, it's going to be all out in the open, and everyone will know my heart and soul belongs to you."

Kate smiled and snuggled closer. "Where will we go next?"

"I don't know. Afaitu has been in contact with the American embassy. There isn't one in French Polynesia; the nearest is in Suva, Fiji. We need passports and the kids will all need birth certificates and passports to travel. That will take some time. The kids'll need vaccinations, or at least the start. We may be stuck in French Polynesia for a while."

"That's probably a good thing. We can start prepping the kids for New York. I think if we went straight there, it would be almost overwhelming for them. I'm not sure they'd handle it well at all: too drastic a difference."

"I think you're right, of course. Afaitu is working on it, with mother and Jim. They'll figure it out for us."

"Your mother's manager is in Tahiti, too? That seems odd."

Rick cursed silently. He'd planned to explain Jim—just later. He'd wanted her to absorb all the changes they'd soon be undergoing.

"Yeah, Jim. He came after I left for you, but he's here as well. That was the plan, at least."

"His wife stayed behind? I suppose their clients can't just be left high and dry."

Damn her and her steel trap mind. She didn't forget anything, including the off the cuff comment that Martha's manager was married and they ran their agency together.

"Yes, I suppose so."

"You said you don't know this Jim? Don't know anything about him?"

"I—uh—I've never met him. Just what Afaitu told me."

"Such as?"

His mind went blank. He couldn't think of anything besides the man's damned name, which was flashing in strobe lights behind his eyes. BECKETT. BECKETT.

"He's—uh—he's, well. He's a good manager. Used to be a lawyer."

Her sharp hiss corresponded with his groan. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The game was up, this was never going to play out well, so he decided to just get it over with.

Reaching around her stiff shoulders, he tried to hug her. She felt like a body in rigor mortis, as unyielding as the stone surrounding them.

"I've never met him, but I do know why he's here. His daughter went missing the same day I disappeared. My mother and your dad bonded over their common loss and became friends."

Sarah woke this time. Her mother's anguished shriek was even heard past the waterfall.

* * *

**Appreciate thoughts, as always. Thank you to all who let me know how I'm doing.  
**

**So, I've received some bad news at work. This fall was going to be tight, as we are down a physician due to him needing his 1200th back surgery (or so it seems). However, on Friday at 5:30pm, I was called to our schedulers office and told that we're now down a second doctor for a grave medical issue. I was pulled from my regular clinics this week to cover the hospital. This is going to be tough on the remaining doctors, and I can't help but be thankful that I'd already decided to put SP on a hiatus so I could catch up again. I will definitely be working on it, but I simply cannot maintain my current schedule of working up to 12 hours in the hospital then writing every spare second I get at home. The story will suffer, along with me. I appreciate all of your understanding. I think (though not totally sure) there are 2 or 3 more chapters until SP goes into hibernation. Thank you all so much for your incredible support!**


	67. Chapter 67: The Breaking Point

**How time flies when you're not having fun.**

**As you know, I last updated this fic in October-intending to post a few more chapters prior to a hiatus. Life had other plans—as outlined in a tumblr posting—if you're interested in knowing why.**

**This chapter is dedicated to all the incredible people who continue to read this story. I apologize for the long delay, and hope this offering and the chapters to come (already written, promise!) bring some life back into this story.**

**This chapter is dedicated to Adriana, who lost someone very special to her since I last published. Te quiero, querida.**

**This chapter is also dedicated to the 4 lovely people who beta for me. Garrae and EES in particular kept on top of me. While I didn't have much time to write in the fall and was quite sick over Christmas, when I've been able to plug away I've had nothing but support and cheerleading from the ones who read and pick apart my work. Thank you.**

* * *

April, 2010

The rush of water muffling her tears abruptly ceased as Martha shut the water off and peered in the mirror. The reflection staring back was that of another woman. A stranger. They shared the same bright red hair, thanks to Didier—her very expensive colorist. Yet they were not the same.

The Martha gazing steadily back looked older, though not wiser. A bit haggard, though that might be expected given recent events.

Stress is not good for your skin.

Faux Martha had red rimmed eyes, from crying for the last twenty minutes. The real Martha Rodgers would never let them see her cry.

However, her choice of Jim's bathroom superseded this argument. Overcome by the soap opera her life had devolved into, she'd retreated after the end of the program.

Gripping the counter until her hands turned white, she slammed her eyes closed and tried to take calming breaths. Her heart was galloping around her chest while her stomach churned incessantly.

Probably not good for an old fogey like her.

She felt a bit cowardly now; Jim was just as involved in all this as she was but you didn't see him crying with her in his bathroom.

It might be comforting to cry together, but she didn't want to add to his burden. Jim's story was like hers, but from a very different angle. She couldn't keep turning to him for comfort when he wasn't even sure if he'd be allowed to see his daughter or grandchildren.

She, on the other hand, would definitely see them.

She couldn't wait.

But, she was terrified. Of this Katherine—Katie, as she'd learned from Jim's many stories through the years. A woman who she knew only from Richard's writing and Jim's memories.

And of her grandchildren. She didn't even know if they knew who she was, or what they meant to her.

Their joining the world for the first time would be overwhelming—she understood that to a degree—but would they want to be close to her? What would Katie think?

For so many long, lonely years she'd locked her maternal side away. Her son—her greatest accomplishment—was dead. Immersed in work, she found a way to cope through the release of emotions via the conduit of her characters. Her achievements and awards spoke of how successful she'd been in interring the real Martha for a fictional version.

Then along came Afaitu on that cold and miserable night in March.

World turned upside down since, she sometimes felt she was just barely hanging on to the whirlwind of events that had erupted since then by a fingernail or two.

Now, after a desolate decade, she had a family again.

If they let her in.

Drying her eyes carefully, she took a few deep breaths. Peering in the mirror once more, she saw the Martha Rodgers everyone around the world recognized.

The one who would have to be brave and strong.

The one who would get through this, no matter what happened.

Flinging the door open, she strode into the hotel room, chin in the air.

So what if she'd been in the bathroom for nearly half an hour?

However, she saw immediately that no deflection would be necessary.

Afaitu wasn't in the room, and Jim looked as distracted as she felt.

He was sitting in one of the chairs next to the window, twisting his wedding ring about his finger while staring absently at nothing at all.

"Where did Afaitu run off to?" she wondered. She spoke softly, but the sound of her voice breaking the quiet stillness of the room startled him anyway.

"He, ah—he got a phone call about fifteen minutes ago. I think he was worried about bothering you, so he stepped outside to take it."

"Is it from someone important? Perhaps news on their rescue?"

"I don't know who it's from. It didn't seem like he recognized the number, but now that he's been gone so long I'm beginning to think it was something related to their return."

"He wouldn't be making press statements until we have their safe return guaranteed—I know that is a fact. I hope he'll have good news for us when he comes back in here."

Jim just gave her a wan smile. Martha knew he was still worried about Kate's reaction to his presence. He needed to be cheered up, so she launched into a discussion that brought them both joy: their grandchildren.

* * *

Afaitu pressed the end button on his last call, leaning against the cool support of the stucco wall as he tried to absorb the latest conversation and work through the ramifications.

He had to go back in soon; there were two people anxiously waiting for his return; waiting for this very news.

He just hoped it was truly the end of their collective nightmare and not the beginning of a new one.

Pushing off the wall with a sigh, he stood straight and shrugged off the doubts that had been assailing him. He was the rock…at least right now. They had to depend on him to be their support while this next chapter unfolded.

He rapped firmly on the door—he'd not thought to grab one of the key cards before stepping out.

Jim opened the door with a cautious smile. He visibly tensed when Afaitu did not return it.

Moving past the older man, Afaitu saw Martha was sitting on the bed. Her face was open, though the tight look she gave him betrayed her actor's mask of indifference.

He waited for Jim to be seated, posture stiff and unyielding. Recognizing that both Jim and Martha were reacting to his own disquiet, he forced his eyes closed and took a deep breath.

"What is it, Afaitu?" Martha's tone was deep, words staccato.

He opened his eyes to see her trembling in fear. He mentally cursed his inability to hide his misgivings from two people who should be shouting with joy and delight. This was supposed to be a time for ecstasy, not agony.

Shaking off his fears, he conscripted his muscles to relax into the chair, various plans and arguments still flying through his head. Talking about his concerns would only help. Jim, in particular, was a great sounding board. Though the problem in question affected his daughter and her family, Afaitu was confident that Jim would be able to look at the proposal from an impartial view.

Thank God for lawyers and their training.

Though it was lawyers who'd forced this ultimatum on them to begin with.

* * *

Tissot massaged his eyes with one hand. It did little to alleviate the headache building there since….well, since he'd first been told to begin a wild goose chase after two cargo ships.

It did buy him a bit more time to think. Looking up, he saw the two other men present in the room were waiting for him to speak.

As it should be; he was the Capitaine.

"Can you play this back in the interrogation room as well?"

"Yes, Capitaine. I will set up a monitor and connect it to a laptop. It is just a matter of half an hour, tops."

"Ok, prepare it for the room Tane is in. I will speak to the pilot first."

The pilot ought to know where they left Grollet. The current location of the Weasel in Chief was the most critical matter right now, so it was his priority.

Unfortunately, the pilot had very bad news to impart on that particular front.

"You can find this island that you landed on?" Tissot pressed.

"Yes, Capitaine, that is no problem. However, you mentioned you were ordered to find President Grollet, no?"

"That is correct."

"Well, he is not on the island where we left him, not anymore."

Tissot could feel the pressure in his head building. It would be a miracle if he escaped this mission without blowing an aneurysm.

"Where did he go?" he gritted behind clenched teeth.

"I don't know, Capitaine. I landed the helo, then the President and Tane walked out of my sight. We had landed some distance from some buildings. They walked in that direction. There was about an hour that passed, then Tane returned alone. He said that the President was being picked up by others on a top secret mission."

"Did you see these other people? Any sign of them at all?"

"Well, no. But it was a good sized island, and Tane is a top aide to the President. Why would he lie?"

Tissot mused over this for a long time.

Why, indeed?

* * *

Rick didn't know what to do first: hold and reassure his wife, or hold and reassure his children. They were all hysterical: Kate due to the devastating news revealing that her father was in Tahiti and very involved in the whole operation, the kids due to their mother's distress and agitation.

In the end he went with Kate. After ten years of being basically alone with her, he knew she required comforting and might not calm without him there—or at least take a long time to settle.

The kids were frightened because mommy was crying. If he could console her, everyone else would follow.

He hoped.

Gathering her in his arms, he pulled her into his lap. She was still clutching Sarah as if she were a rope in a storm tossed sea, which wasn't doing much for the baby's peace of mind.

"Shh, Kate. It's ok."

He felt her relax as soon as she was encircled in his arms. They'd both learned over the years how to help the other when faced with an emotional trauma, and he drew upon that experience now.

Looking up, he saw AJ and Patrick standing in front of him and Kate. They had tears streaming down their faces, little chins and hands trembling as they tried and failed to understand what on earth was happening.

"Boys, it's ok. It's ok. C'mere," he gestured with one hand. Soon, all five of the Rodgers family was in a giant group hug. Kate was now just sobbing quietly against his chest, which in turn pacified the boys within a matter of minutes.

Well, that and the crayons that he dug out of his bag. He'd been saving them for later, but this seemed like as good a time as any.

They were astonished by the colors, and were soon completely entranced by the myriad (well, to them) colors that they now had access to use.

Sarah had been reduced to a sniffling, hiccuppy cry, so Rick turned his attention back to Kate.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he murmured, stroking her hair. He felt her patting Sarah, who was falling asleep again after the emotional upset.

"No."

"Ok." Their connection was so established and stable after so many years together that he knew she really did want to talk, but wanted to have more time to process the information until she could think about it in a semi-logical fashion.

They were two very different people in many ways. Kate liked facts and considered questions from multiple angles before acting on something—if she had time.

He tended to go more with his gut instinct and was much more spur of the moment. It often led him astray—or at least off the beaten path—but the creativity required to get him back to rights was something he was blessed with in abundance.

On paper, the two of them didn't seem compatible. But, in the real world, they were in synch with each other. It had taken work—still did at times—but once they had learned to communicate with each other and what their partner required, well…Rick was certain there were few couples in the world that had as strong a relationship as he and Kate did.

Granted, it was established and flourished on a desert island. However, considering everything they'd survived together, it was hard to imagine that adding in people and other places would come between them.

He wasn't naïve enough to think it would be easy—it wouldn't. They were both very worried about how the kids were going to react to the massive differences between island life and the modern world.

A simple pack of crayons were seen as the most exciting thing after sliced bread.

Except they'd never _had_ sliced bread.

They'd never had _bread_.

It would be a challenge. There was no question. But, he knew with Kate at his side that they'd get through it all. First, they had to be sure they were safe.

The answer to that question ought to be coming soon. The program had aired—Laurent had said in the States and in French Polynesia. It would air in Europe during their coming morning and would be in the morning edition of the papers.

They just had to be patient a little bit longer.

But, lord, he was ready for the worry and strain over what Grollet was plotting against them to be finished.

Oh, how he wished he knew what was happening. How he hoped that Grollet had been captured after the program was broadcast. That it was now safe to crawl out of their hiding hole.

Or their hiding cave, in this case.

He could turn his full attention to his wife and children, instead of this expectant waiting that they were doing now. What would Grollet do? And how would it impact them?

* * *

Tissot studied the other man intently. His years of command gave him a naturally authoritative air, one that he typically could use to his advantage during the few investigations he'd had to conduct during his time in the Navy.

In his experience, the guilty party was often quite frazzled before he even entered the room. His air of disappointment in the other man, coupled with his expectation of honesty, was almost always all that was required before the suspect was spilling his guts.

This man was unlike any other that he'd interrogated.

Tane sat, posture relaxed in the chair as if Tissot were the supplicant. Eyes half closed, there wasn't a care in the world visible on Tane's face.

Tissot elected to go for the silent treatment for a few minutes. Most people couldn't stand to sit in quietude, especially with an intimidating Capitaine glaring at them from the other side of the table.

Tane carelessly examined his fingernails, picking at a rough spot on his left hand.

A white hot magma composed of anger and frustration bubbled up inside of Tissot. He briefly wondered if it would spew out of his mouth when he opened it, eating through the table and the flesh of the man in front of him before it cooled.

Alas, it did not.

"Are you not even curious why you're here? Why you've been detained?"

Tane looked up at him, eyes flat black and unreadable. "I figured you'd tell me eventually."

Mentally recalculating his approach, Tissot realized he had to shake the man's infuriating complacency.

"You and Grollet got off on an island. Will you tell me why?"

Tane's only response was to smirk at him.

"This island had buildings on it, though the pilot saw no one there."

Tane shrugged.

"The pilot told me some story about a top secret meeting. I think he is lying. Or he was lied to. Which is it, Tane?"

More silence, though Tissot did not miss the tensing of his prey's shoulders. Subtle? Yes. But present.

Shifting gears, he sought to further disarm the man. A little confusion wouldn't hurt. Tane was not a rocket scientist, and if he managed to muddy the waters enough he felt he would crack the door open to the truth. All he needed was a crack.

"Do you know what a hypothesis is, Tane?"

Tane squinted his eyes and pursed his lips slightly. Success! Though Tissot dared not reveal his elation.

"A hypothesis? Isn't that like when you're trying to explain something but you don't know much about it?"

"Well, I suppose that is how many people think it works. But in actuality, a hypothesis is the method to explain a question. You develop the answer and are able to test it with evidence."

Tane chose to remain silent after that statement. No matter, he had him on the line now. His little fish just didn't realize he was caught, yet.

"I have a hypothesis about our President, and what he was really doing out here. And it does not involve any top secret missions. Would you like to hear it?"

"I don't expect I have much of a choice, do I?"

"We're just discussing things here. But I think you'll find it to be a very…interesting…discussion."

Tane fixed his eyes on the floor, his body still relaxed in his chair. A study in nonchalance, if one were to paint him.

"Did you know that your former shipmate, Richard Rodgers, was a passenger on one of the cargo ships I was ordered to follow? I found that to be a very curious coincidence. The public is still unaware of his location. They thought he was in hiding from all the women who seem to be after him."

No noticeable response to that tidbit of information. Which confirmed that Tane had known that Rodgers was on the _Vaitiare_. Or he simply didn't care about Rodgers at all, though that was hard to believe given all the recent public discussion about the shipwreck and the excitement that Rodgers had survived so long.

"My belief—my hypothesis—is that President Grollet was well aware of that fact. And the islands that you visited were ones that you thought might have been where Rodgers had been living all these years."

Tissot observed a slight tensing of Tane's muscles before he relaxed them again. A less experienced interrogator might have missed it, but Tissot had long ago learned to read the language of the body. Often what wasn't said, but rather observed, ended up being of more value than the words which were spoken out loud.

People lied to themselves all the time. And in a crisis, as a commander you had to know what a person was truly capable of doing, not just what they said they could do. It might be the difference between life and death.

"You see, Tane, I think that Richard Rodgers wasn't alone all these years. That he, in fact, was living with another. Perhaps even another survivor."

Tane's eyes were the only movement made by his body. They darted back and forth along the floor, as if seeking an escape from the ongoing interrogation.

"Just think of what an amazing story that would be. But, there's more."

Tane began fidgeting with his hands. Tissot repressed a smile. He had the other man's feet roasting over a fire, with no hope of avoiding the flames.

"I hypothesize that M. Rodgers' companion for the last decade is someone well known to Grollet…and yourself. For she was a shipmate with all of you on that doomed voyage. You know, the one where the lifeboat containing just three survivors—including you and Grollet—was rescued? Then Grollet claimed the others were all dead. A topic that he was very mistaken about, given the return of M. Rodgers."

A slight shift in the chair belied the seeming nonchalance that Tane's posture was attempting to portray.

"Katherine Beckett…yes, that was her name. I believe they survived somehow, together, until some catastrophe or desperate act separated them. Fortunately for M. Rodgers, he was found adrift. Unfortunately for him, it was in the country that was now run by a man who had very much benefitted from the deaths of Mlle. Beckett and M. Rodgers."

The artery that tracked through Tane's neck was suddenly very visible, pulsating with force even as the man himself remained still. Its beat would have made a poor metronome, as Tissot could see it was not steady—rather, increasing rapidly.

"It puzzled me for a while. Why would M. Rodgers not even mention her name after his discovery? In fact, he went out of his way to ensure everyone thought he'd been alone. Not to mention the fact that he permitted the authorities to toss him in jail, despite being completely innocent. It was almost as if…as if he were protecting her."

A light sheen of sweat had now broken out on the face of Tane. Tissot knew the heat was getting to the man. Time to turn it up.

"But then, I started thinking. Grollet has proclaimed to all that would listen for the past ten years that both M. Rodgers and Mlle. Beckett were dead. With the identification of M. Rodgers and the revelation that he actually was alive, there was a small attempt to resolve it all. To tie it up all neat and palatable for the voters. It was a simple mistake: an unconscious man, a panicked Grollet who didn't take the time to check properly. A reasonable explanation, no?"

Tane was now sitting stiffly in his chair. No one looking at him would ever conclude that he was untouched by what he was hearing. Tissot wondered if it was due to guilt, or to fear of discovery. Ultimately, it didn't really matter to him—he would not be responsible in the end for determining the man's fate.

"Finally, I realized that someone had to be lying. What if, on that fateful day so long ago, Grollet purposefully left the two of them behind? What if he decided, for some twisted reason, that there was no need to rescue them?"

Tane gave a small shake of his head. Easily missed, if Tissot hadn't been watching him like a hawk.

"He left them to go down with the ship, but claimed that they'd been dead already. But, through their own hard work and will to live, they made it. They survived all these years despite everyone else—every single person that loved them—believing them to be gone. What a terrible crime that would be. Horrible to even contemplate, especially when you consider how much their supposed death advanced Grollet's career."

Tane wiped his brow. Sweat droplets were beading on his forehead. Tissot stood, towering over the seated man.

"Yet the worst was still to come. Because he not only left them behind to die, he then actively tried to suppress the fact that M. Rodgers had been found. To what end? Hoping that once the publicity died off that a quick death for M. Rodgers would eliminate the threat?"

Tissot had raised the volume of his voice through the last several monologues. He was now shouting, contempt dripping from his tone. Tane turned, placing his back to him—trying to ignore him. However, that little maneuver wasn't going to work. Tissot simply walked around the table and stood next to the man's chair.

"But then along came Tamahere and Afaitu Tutomo. They knew M. Rodgers was innocent, and proved it to the world. Once released, he pretended to play along, glad handing with Grollet, misleading everyone about his time away. Why did he do this? Why? Why would he do this? I'll tell you why. Because he knew that Katherine Beckett would be in serious danger if Grollet found her first. Isn't that right, Tane?"

The other man rocked in place. The pheromone of his fear was easily identified standing this close to him. He smelled of sweat and desperation.

It was very pleasing to Tissot's palate.

"You took the helo to check the most likely islands for where Mlle Beckett and M. Rodgers survived. He took you with him as he probably didn't want to get his hands dirty, not again. You've been in collusion with him this whole time, why stop now? What's a little more murder between friends? But you screwed up, didn't you? You picked the wrong damn islands. And now you've left that piss poor excuse for a President behind. Didn't you? DIDN'T YOU?"

As he screamed at Tane, he thought he saw the other man finally break. Tane bent over at the waist, collapsing onto his legs. A few deep shuddering breaths were all that escaped as silence descended onto the room. Tissot spun and walked back to his side of the table, confident Tane was ready to talk.

However, when Tane sat up again half a minute later, he had regrouped. A defiant look on his face, he stared at him with a challenge in his eyes.

"You said you had a hypothesis," he hissed between clenched teeth. That you _believe_ this is what happened. Well, you can think what you want, but you don't know _anything_ for sure. You're just guessing."

Tissot's smile was as wide as the Cheshire cat's. "Ah, but that is where you are mistaken, M. Tane. Do you recall what else makes a hypothesis? It's the fact that you can test it. To look at evidence. And evidence? Evidence, I have."

Tane gulped audibly, his gaze grew cloudy as Tissot gave him a chance to think about what he'd just said. A small gesture to the two men watching the interview from the open doorway brought confirmation in the nod of a head from one. He was ready.

"Evidence? What kind of evidence could you possibly have?" sneered Tane.

"Why the very best kind. The kind that has already been seen all over the world."

He snapped his fingers at his A/V man. The TV monitor in the corner flickered to life. As the video began, an unmistakable sound filled the air.

Tickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktickticktick

* * *

**I'll be posting every other day, as my previous schedule. Thank you for reading, and please feel free to leave me comments, reviews or PMs. **


	68. Chapter 68: The Burning Night

**This chapter is dedicated to Liz and Corie, who both have endured losses while I was on hiatus. I hope my little story helps you forget your sorrow, if just briefly, and all of you know that I'm thinking about you.**

* * *

April, 2010

Red and orange curls licked the wood hungrily, devouring the fuel with an eagerness that would eventually lead to their own demise. However, the stack of wood in the fire pit was just now blackening; it would be many hours before the hot flames died out and left behind cold pieces of charcoal.

Kate watched the flames, hypnotized by their dance. They stretched as high as they could into the night sky, arms punching into the velvet darkness. Reaching for their brethren hanging in the firmament above, unaware that the myriad stars that shone upon the island burned too far away to care about tiny tendrils consuming tinder millions of miles from them.

She had always been fascinated by the magic produced by a fire. The crackle and pop as the wood gave way to its combustion. The contrast of the luminous flames to the black night. The warmth from the bright glow.

It brought a sense of peace and intimacy to her, even now. For ten years she'd not had a hot meal without a fire being an integral part of the process, but sitting next to the glorious blaze Rick had built on the beach after dinner had lost none of its bewitchment for her.

She sat in her chair holding a sleeping Sarah: Rick had carried it down for her after they had finished cooking up a celebratory dinner for their family and guests. It had been a bit raucous, certainly more than their quiet life on the island typically engendered.

Salesi had popped into the cave about two hours after they'd entered it. Laurent had received a call from the French Armed Forces, reassuring him that none of their people would be involved in any action against Rick and Kate.

Soon after, another call from Papeete had relayed news that had both shaken and relieved them: Grollet _had_ been chasing them, and had made an attempt to find and silence them. Kate's mouth had gone dry and she'd felt her stomach clench as the taciturn Salesi tried to explain why it was now safe to exit the cave.

It seemed that Grollet had finally made a mistake: not knowing where they had been shipwrecked, he'd been forced to try and guess which island they'd washed up on.

He'd guessed wrong.

All of the machinations involving two cargo ships and the indirect route laid down in an attempt to throw off their pursuit had paid off.

Laurent had been told that the very Naval ship that had been commissioned to follow them was now ordered to find the President and take him into custody.

It was over.

Ten years of a forced stalemate brought on when Grollet had completely removed their pieces from the board was finished. Rick had landed in the middle of it all with a resounding thud, and a checkmate was compelled in a matter of a few short weeks once Tamahere recognized that the game had changed.

She was free. Rescued.

All that she'd wished for during those difficult early months ten years ago was finally coming to fruition.

For so long, she and Rick had been the insignificant fire in the midst of the infinite night sky of the world. A negligible point of light lost amongst the millions of larger rays. Forgotten by all but a few, in danger of being lost forever.

Yet, with the help of people she didn't even know, her husband had managed to change their tiny, sputtering flame into a conflagration that might rival the sun. A tiny ember that managed to go supernova. The attention of the entire sky would now shine on them—it had kept them safe and provided them succor just as she was about to sink into despair after missing her husband for some 6 months.

She just hoped that the fire of attention to be trained on her didn't give her a third degree burn in the process.

* * *

Kelsey Webb could not imagine events going better for her if she tried. First, the whole assignment had been very exciting. She was an experienced writer, and being asked to go to French Polynesia to cover the return of Rick Castle to the land of the living had been an honor.

And, oh!, to be sent to French Polynesia! Airfare and hotel paid for in full by the magazine. Thank goodness the man hadn't been shipwrecked in some frigid place, like in Baffin Bay or one of the Aleutian islands.

Beyond the exotic locale that most people simply dreamed of visiting, she had been front and center for the unfolding drama that marked the discovery of Rick Castle languishing in a Tahitian prison. The man had been an international best-selling author, after all. Sadly, his decade long disappearance meant his name wasn't as widely known in the States as it had been at the turn of the century.

What made it all the more delicious was that his mother was none other than a revered, widely known and lauded actress. Martha Rodgers' name carried quite a cachet, and if there had been nothing more to the story than it involved her, her missing son, and a ten years' absence, it would have still been very exciting news.

In fact, that was all that Kelsey had expected when she'd boarded the plane at LAX to fly to Papeete. It would probably be a cover story, depending on what else happened in the interim in the land of celebrity. As long as the Jolie-Pitts weren't popping out another kid and no more of Tiger Woods' mistresses crawled out of the woodwork, she'd felt they had a good shot at being the lead story as she began the journey.

Therefore, when she landed and started scoping out tidbits to flesh out the human interest (i.e. titillation) portions, she thought she'd died and gone to heaven when Meredith Harper showed up.

Not only was Ms. Harper more than willing to speak…and speak…and speak…on the record, she was selling herself as a secret fiancée of Rick Castle. Talk about romantic, dramatic, thrilling, and what-have-you. The paying public would eat it up.

Only the niggling doubts about the story being true had kept Kelsey from floating, instead of walking like a mere mortal, around the island. Then came that fateful meeting with Paula Haas and the distracted comments she'd overheard Gina Cowell saying. Kelsey hadn't been sure what to make of them at the time, but a call to the New York bureau had uncovered some very interesting information.

Kelsey had then had to make a choice. If she was wrong, she would have wasted a lot of time and effort for her assistants in the States.

But if she was right—and the little morsel she'd overheard about Jim Beckett being in Tahiti coupled with Rick Castle's glaring absence after his press conference meant that Kate Beckett was alive—well, this might be story of the year material.

So, she'd taken the leap—from a sure thing to what could be a career making event. They'd worked up a special edition and laid it out based purely on her hunch. And, oh my goodness, had it paid off. She'd spent a good fifteen minutes on the phone listening to the jubilation pouring out of the main office in the States, and her email was blowing up with messages from her boss and her boss' bosses. Sixty Minutes was usually a bit of a rival, though they dealt with news in very different ways. But the program they'd aired tonight—well, it had justified her decision beyond her wildest dreams.

She couldn't repress the giant smile on her face or bother hiding the fact that she was skipping down the hallway of her hotel, on her way to celebrate with a well-deserved expensive dinner at an exclusive French restaurant and the best wine she could find.

Ultimately, time would prove she was wrong about it being the story of the year.

It was closer to being the story of the decade.

* * *

Rick smiled broadly at his boys. He was seated on the sand, next to the chair he'd brought down from the kitchen for Kate. They were all gathered around the large fire he'd built in a pit on the beach after dinner was finished. There was nothing quite as relaxing and enjoyable as sitting around a campfire on a beach with his family and friends.

The men who'd accompanied him on this rescue mission were planning to bunk down by the lake until they knew what the next step would entail. They'd brought the necessary equipment and had set it up while Rick's family was in the cave waiting for the all clear.

Once they'd emerged, the two boys had wasted no time in acquainting themselves with all that the men had brought with them. They hadn't lugged along anything elaborate or wasted—the group from the AFP was made up of experienced journalists who'd long learned what was necessary for a few days roughing it outdoors, and the two Polynesians were more comfortable on a remote island than they were in a city.

They'd been good sports about the boys barreling from tent to tent. Alex and Patrick had never seen anything like the lightweight, synthetic material that comprised the majority of the tents. While the shelters that Rick typically built on the outer beach were always structured like a tent, the thick, holey plastic tarps—now practically threadbare after a decade of withstanding the abuse they'd put them through—were not even remotely similar to the brightly colored (one orange, one lime green) micro thin fabric these tents boasted.

At first, neither boy had believed that they'd stand up to the wind, let alone frequent rain that the island received. The Rodgers family was long acquainted with the knowledge that while their interior island location kept them out of the worst windstorms, it could still blow fairly hard at times.

Tamahere had demonstrated how the tent poles worked together to maintain the structure, and how the shape of the tents helped shed wind. Rick had, in turn, used the opportunity to work in a lesson regarding air lift, showing them how shapes he'd drawn in the sand would react to a force of air.

After the wind exercise, Rick had started gathering wood to build the fire for nightfall. He was carrying an armful down from the kitchen stack when he'd seen both of his boys being urged to move into the orange tent by Salesi. No one else seemed to be at the campsite, as the others had decided to wander around a bit more, exploring.

He'd nearly dropped the wood when he heard Salesi yell "Ready?", answered by Alex and Patrick's resounding "Yes!" from the interior.

"Ok, here goes," the big man had declared, picking up a five gallon bucket as if it were a seashell then dumping a cascade of water over the tent.

Rick had held his breath—it was a lot of water, and certainly far more in an instant than what nature ever produced. However, the delighted shrieks from inside the shelter had soon reassured him that not only were they dry, but that by some miracle there was not even a drip!

Seeing Rick carrying the wood, Salesi had hurried over to help him.

"That was a pretty big risk you took on the waterproofing of that tent, buddy."

Salesi had just grunted.

"Good thing the seams held up, not to mention the tent poles. Five gallons of water weighs a lot."

"Just wanted them to learn about water resistance. Teaching a lesson like you did earlier."

"Yeah, but it might have ended up with a collapsed, flooded tent. I was always amazed by your abilities and luck when we were in prison; I guess I need to expand your sphere of influence to the entire natural world."

Salesi had given him a shrug and they both had started stacking the wood in the pit; all they'd need to do later was ignite it with some tinder.

After a few minutes of companionable silence, Rick had suddenly been struck with a thought.

"Hey, Salesi? Which tent is yours and Tamahere's?"

Salesi had looked up at him and smirked, "Green one," before striding towards the kitchen for more fire wood.

Thus had ended the lessons for the day.

Dinner had been as large a spread he and Kate could throw together in the few hours they had. Alex had shown off his fishing skills from the lakeshore, catching five good sized fish in little more than an hour. The garden continued to be bountiful, and there was always plenty of fruit. Their guests had seemed to really enjoy the feast, and the camaraderie of enjoying the meal together went a long way to making both Alex and Sarah more comfortable with these strange new additions to their world.

Now it was past sundown, and they were all gathered around the campfire on the beach. Sarah was asleep in Kate's arms, and his wife seemed lost in thought as she stared into the flames. Most of the rest of the men were sitting scattered around the flames, with the exception of Laurent and Loison. They weren't far off, fiddling with some equipment.

"We probably need to get the boys to bed soon," he remarked to Kate, rubbing what little of her arm he could reach.

She startled slightly, then looked down to him with a big smile. "Sorry, what?"

"You were a million miles away, Kate. What are you thinking about?"

"All the changes for us that happened today."

"It's a lot to take in. Even for me, and I've been working towards it for months now."

"There's a lot to talk about."

He nodded at her. Was there ever a lot to talk about. But, there were more important things to take care of first. "Shall we meet at the usual spot, Mrs. Rodgers?" he urged, excitement rising as he contemplated finally having Kate alone, in his arms once more.

Her smile widened. "Of course, I was expecting to, babe. It's been a long six months without you. But we need to talk, too."

"I know. We will, promise." Suddenly, bedtime for everyone could not happen quickly enough.

* * *

"I have a treat for the boys, if you will allow?" Laurent proposed just as Rick was about to corral them for bed. They were still very wound up from the day's events, and he was not looking forward to how long it would take them to fall asleep.

"What kind of treat?" Kate's voice murmured. She was careful not to speak too loudly with the baby in her lap.

"Loison and I have downloaded the program that aired today. Our connection had some issues, so it took a bit longer than we expected, but it's all there now. They can watch a TV program for the first time." He pointed at one of the monitors; facing forward, it was set up for them to all be able to view it easily.

"Do you have something to power it with?" Rick was curious, as the cameras all had batteries, but he wasn't sure what would power the monitor.

"Of course. We always carry extra fuel cells as well as a small generator. Paris has asked for more shots of the island interior tomorrow, but I don't anticipate needing to use even a fraction of the batteries we have left. I thought we'd introduce the boys to electricity and TV tonight. But only if you wish it."

Rick looked at his wife. He knew she had a lot to discuss with him, but it seemed as though everything was leaping ahead of them no matter how they tried to make it all stop so they had a chance to talk and come to a consensus on how to handle it. They'd be talking together tonight…eventually. But there was no time for any of that yet.

"What do you think, Rick?"

He glanced at the boys, who were currently dancing around Salesi in some sort of crazy attempt to get the big guy to chase them. It was a futile attempt on their part, but the hyperactive energy they were still burning made him despair that he and Kate would ever get them asleep in their beds…followed by his first opportunity to have time with his wife blissfully alone.

"They can't get any worse than they are now. I know they'll crash once the adrenaline wears off, but right now they look like they could power the monitor without any need for a generator."

Laurent smiled. "I have several grandchildren near their ages. It does not take much to excite them, no? However, perhaps they will start to come down a bit as they sit and watch? Sometimes, I've found that my grandchildren realize they are quite sleepy if you keep them still long enough for the fatigue to make itself known."

"Sounds like a reasonable plan. They've never had even a quarter of the excitement that they've had today. We need to start coming up with some strategies to contain them once we hit the outside world, so I guess we can start tonight," Rick responded as he started to stand, intending to retrieve his offspring.

Laurent stopped him with a hand to his shoulder. "M. Rodgers, if you'll allow me. I believe I can get their undivided attention in a matter of seconds. Please?"

Rick acquiesced, reseating himself next to his wife and wondering what wonder Laurent was about to reveal.

The only way he knew the generator had kicked on was by a very faint whine; it was remarkably quiet. All of a sudden the area surrounding the camera equipment—just to one side of the tents—lit up under the glare of several lights strung across two poles, bathing the entire area in incandescent light.

Even by modern standards, these were fairly bright bulbs. Light was often needed in the field: to illuminate interiors for shots, to spotlight a person being interviewed, to see at night as the production lists were formed and re-formed depending on how the day's shooting had gone. Light was a necessity for these professionals, so they had good equipment.

Regardless of their potency, artificial light was an unprecedented experience for the boys. Rick was watching them when the lights first flickered on: both simply arrested in their wild jumping around as they stared at the area of the beach previously obscured by the night yet now, inexplicably, lit up as though a ray of the sun had been captured and contained in that one spot.

"Boys, come here, please," Rick ordered. Neither moved, mouths hanging open as they tried to figure out what was going on. "Salesi, do you mind bringing them over here? Laurent is going to play the program from today."

Salesi stood and gently led Alex and Patrick to their parents. By the time they reached Rick, they were both regaining their voices. Unfortunately.

"Dad, Dad, Dad, is that electricity?"

"D-d-daddy, Daddy, Daddy, Daddy," Patrick shouted, jumping in place while staring at the lights.

Rick reached over and turned them both to face him. He had to hold Patrick's chin in one hand to keep the boy from turning it back to the lights.

"Boys, are you listening to me?" They still seemed a bit glazed.

"_Mal'chiki! Slushayte!_" Kate snapped. It took a few seconds, but Rick could see they were paying attention to him once again.

"Are you ready to listen?" he asked once more.

"Yes, Daddy," Patrick replied, while Alex nodded soberly.

"Good. Now, those are lights, run by electricity. We've talked about that before. Off the island, most people have electricity in their houses, and use lights to see what they are doing at night. I know this is the first time you've seen it being used, but this is something that everyone is used to having off our island. Understand?"

Seeing the little nods, he continued. "Now, Monsieur Laurent has told me that he talked to you about the video that we shot today and how you can watch things like this on a monitor, or TV screen. He wants to play it for us, and your mother and I agree that you may—with a condition."

He added the last part just as the expected hooting for joy was about to erupt. Alex contained his exuberance with difficulty, but he did manage it. Patrick wriggled, for lack of a better word, from head to toe, but also managed to keep his verbal glee to himself.

"Now, what your mother and I need you to do is to sit down here by us. The video will play on that screen there," he said pointing it out. Patrick immediately climbed in his lap and settled down.

As Alex sat beside him and leaned on him, Rick had an emotional surge that left him with tears in his eyes. He was truly thankful that his family was safe, that he'd been in time for them. And that he could be with them, surrounding him with their love.

Despite the fact that both boys were hot, sweaty messes that made the warm, tropical night even more miserable.

* * *

By the end of the video, both boys were drooping—there thrill in watching a "movie" had quickly waned when all they'd seen were shots of the island and their parents talking. By far the most exciting part had been seeing themselves dressed in their new clothes. Fortunately, by then their overarching fatigue had firmly taken hold. As Loison shut off the equipment, Rick and Kate started to clamber to their feet, intent on getting their family to bed.

The ringing of the satellite phone wasn't enough for any of the children to react to, thank goodness. Otherwise, Rick might have thrown the thing into the lake.

Laurent answered it, but indicated it was for Rick and Kate.

"Who is it?" Rick asked, irked at the timing.

"It's your attorney."

"I'd forgotten he was going to call. What time is it?"

"It's nearly 8pm," the older man replied.

Rick understood that was early to most of the world, but when your sole clock is a giant star you go to bed when it does. He was re-acclimatized to the rhythms of modern life, but his family had never had the luxury of being up late.

Salesi took one look him and acted: lifting both boys in his arms without any hesitation and setting off up the path towards the house. Kate gave him a look that let him know that she expected him to fill her in as soon as he could before following in the wake of the Samoan with Sarah, who'd slept through all of the excitement.

"Afaitu?"

"Rick! Did you see any of the program?"

Rick sat down in Kate's vacated chair. This was likely to be a long conversation.

* * *

**Thank you all so much for the incredible comments for the last chapter. I answered all that I could, but if you commented as a guest or have PMs turned off, know that I really appreciate the awesome reception I had for publishing again. I'm very happy to be back!**


	69. Chapter 69: Alone At Last

**This chapter is dedicated to GT500RonSmith. He began reading Surviving Paradise after much of the initial chapters had been published, and was kind enough to leave a review on each and every chapter. I really appreciate his enthusiasm for the story, but I'm even more grateful for some of the conversations we've had regarding how the direction of certain relationships will move forward as Rick, Kate and the kids finally get back to civilization. To be perfectly honest, his insight has led me to reconsider one direction I had been going to take, and I've now altered how I approach it. Thank you sir, for all the support and thoughts.**

**Also, a huge thank you to Sylvia for the cover art. She did a drawing of the Rodgers family a while ago, and then came up with a great way to display it. She's supremely talented, and I thank her so much for the beautiful works she's done based on this story. **

* * *

April, 2010

Rick considered running back to Kate once he finally got off the phone with Afaitu and Jim. Considered, but decided that running was just a bit too childish.

Instead, he skipped.

He didn't need any light to guide him back, though he'd been offered a flashlight by Laurent. This path was as familiar to him as his old apartment in New York had been. He could traverse it with his eyes closed, and often had in his mind when he was languishing in Nuutania.

He managed to control himself enough to keep from vaulting onto the porch—waking the children would be an absolute disaster at this juncture. Concentrating on his ninja like skills, coupled with the inky darkness that engulfed the clearing, he entirely missed the fact that Kate was sitting on the porch waiting for him.

Thus, he was grateful the high squeal he let out as he mounted the stairs so stealthily was no stronger than it was.

"That was a long conversation!"

He clapped a hand over his mouth to keep more squeals from escaping and tried to calm his galloping heart as he peered into the black, unsuccessfully. "Kate?"

"No, it's Salesi." He thought the sarcastic tone was uncalled for, given that she'd taken a year off of his life. However, the thought of being alone with her—at long last—kept his mouth shut.

Her voice was issuing from the left side of the porch, opposite of the side with the shower. The side with bench that they usually sat on to watch the sunset. He let out a small chuckle as he moved to join her.

"You startled me. I thought you'd be inside."

"Yeah, the shriek kinda gave you away. Kids went down the minute we got them in bed, so I thought I'd wait out here for you. Took a while."

"There was a lot of information; a lot for _us_ to discuss," he explained as he sat next to her and pulled her into his side. His breath caught; this was where he belonged. Next to her. Side by side they'd overcome so very much together. Without her next to him, he'd been lost.

"Is discussion _all _you have in mind tonight?" she whispered, running her finger along his cheek.

Suddenly, his heart was galloping out of control once again. But no squealing was involved.

He'd describe it more as a keening moan than a squeal.

* * *

Kate stretched languidly next to her husband. They'd been driven off the porch by a light rain, though to be honest they hadn't noticed it for a while. Plus, it had felt a bit soothing on hot, sweaty bodies.

But, as gratifying as greeting him on the porch had been, having him next to her in bed settled her soul back into its rightful spot. She'd felt incomplete while he was missing, and at no time had it been more noticeable than when she was alone at night.

She felt him stir, then suddenly sit up in alarm.

"Holy crap!"

"Shh, Rick, you'll wake the kids. What's wrong?"

He lay back slowly, propped up by an elbow on his side. She couldn't make out his face in the pitch-black night, but the tension in his body radiated his concern, even without being able to see his eyes.

"Kate, I'm so sorry," he groaned. "We didn't think about protection."

She giggled, relieved that was all he was worried about. "No, we didn't. But there's nothing immediate on the island, since I assume you've not had access to papaya seeds?"

"No. I never even thought about grabbing condoms. All of my focus was on getting here, making you safe."

She reached over and stroked his arm. "It's ok, Rick. We'll start using protection when we get a chance, and besides, we're rescued. We're safe. Even if I get pregnant now, this time we'll at least have access to medical care."

"Do you want more kids? We haven't talked about it since Sarah was born."

"I'm not opposed to it. You know that most of the time my pregnancies have been easy, and the deliveries have been straightforward."

"Thank God," he choked. "When I think about what could have happened…what would I have done without you, Kate? Six months apart nearly drove me insane."

"But it all went fine. And you're back now. We're a family again."

"So you want another baby?"

"Noooo," she trailed off.

"No?"

"Not _no_, no."

"Huh?"

"No, not now, preferably. But if it happens, it happens. Could you have waited until we got back to Tahiti, or wherever we're going? 'Cause we both know your great sea sponge idea was how we got Alex."

"Uh, no. I wasn't sure I could wait until nightfall. Waiting for days really would have sent me over the edge." He leaned over and kissed her deeply before withdrawing slightly. "Lying next to you, being able to touch you, caress you without being able to have you completely? I would have been a delirious, blubbering fool before the sun rose again."

"A blubbering fool?" she teased. "More likely a petrified giant, unable to do anything more than stand and stare at me."

That brought a deeper laugh from her husband. "What can I say, you've affected me deeply from the very first moment I saw you."

"All I could think of was that you must have been mentally handicapped; able bodied physically to work on a ship, but unable to speak."

He captured her lips again before starting a trail of kisses down her neck. "I'll show you just how able bodied I can be, Kate."

"When are we going to talk about the phone call?" she gasped. It wasn't meant to be a protest, at least not against what he was doing, oh, right there.

"Later," he growled, moving his soft lips down past her neck.

Later was fine with her.

* * *

"I sure hope the kids sleep in this morning," he murmured, nuzzling her.

"You wish," she snickered, arching into his embrace a little tighter. "At least I'll get a chance to sleep in."

"Huh?"

"Well, it's your first morning back with them. They won't want me getting them breakfast. I figure I'll just lounge in bed, maybe get a few extra z's."

"You've got a point. And I certainly don't mind the image of you lying in bed after the night we've had."

"Well, we do need to get some sleep. But I think it's more important that we talk things over first."

"You're right, Kate. There's so much." He paused for a minute, trying to sort out in his head where to begin. Overwhelmed with it all, he didn't notice that he was breathing faster or how tense he'd become until he felt Kate's gentle touch rubbing his shoulder.

"Relax, Rick. Why don't you start with the phone call and we'll go from there."

He took in a gulp of air, then let out a heavy sigh. "Ok, that's as good as any place to start. I wish you could have heard it too; it was just bad timing for him to call right at the kid's bedtime."

"I knew you'd be able to catch me up on everything. So, what's going on?"

"Well, Tamahere and I told you earlier about taking Ari'i's cargo ship, then rendezvousing with his friend in another cargo ship. Afaitu had discovered that the French Navy was looking for us and he thought that having the two ships would confuse things a little. Plus, the AFP crew had helicoptered to the other cargo ship and needed to join us for the final push with their Zodiac boat."

"That was all Afaitu's plan?"

"Yeah. When we left Mo'orea we had no idea that Grollet would activate the Navy. My only plan was to get to you as fast as humanly possible, so I was intending as straight a line to this island as we could make. You should have seen how upset I was when the boat turned south. Salesi nearly had to restrain me."

"Thank goodness we had so many people helping you."

"Oh, Kate, it's been such a blessing. I can't wait for you to be able to meet everyone, but especially Afaitu. He's been the glue that held me together all this time."

"I'm sure I'll love him, babe. He's done so much for us."

"Anyway, Ari'i's cargo ship, the _Vaitiare_, is still fairly close. Ari'i could be here in less than a day. The downside is that she's a cargo ship, like the _Iriata,_ and not made for speed. It will take many days to get to our next destination."

"Is there another option? The Zodiac's range can't be too far."

"There is, but I'm not sure what you'll think about it. I'm not sure I know what _I_ think about it," he mumbled, trailing off.

"A plane?"

"Huh? No, not a plane. Actually, Afaitu did mention a sea plane, but I told him I didn't think the kids would handle that big of a shock. I'd like to have a few days on a ship to introduce them more gradually to modern life. Do you agree?"

She kissed him, quickly, grateful at how in sync they still were with each other.

"Completely agree. The boys will be very excited at whatever means of transportation we use, but to whisk them from here to a city in a matter of hours would really be overwhelming. I think a transition by boat is easier."

"So, that leaves us with the other ship as an option."

"The other cargo ship?"

"Uh, no. The Naval ship that was chasing us. The French government has offered to have it come pick us up. There are advantages: it's much bigger and much faster than the cargo ship. I'm sure that the French would much prefer us to come back to Papeete in the safety of one of their modern ships. The positive publicity would help them tremendously."

"What are the disadvantages?"

"Well, for one, we'd be going back to Papeete for sure. My original plan had been for us to go to the Marquesas, where Ari'i is from. I thought we could hide out from Grollet until we exposed him for the diabolical asshole that he is. We don't need to do that now that Grollet forced our hand."

"But hiding out sounds good to me." The longing in her voice was for a future that she knew was no longer possible: anonymity.

"Yeah, but it's no longer possible. You saw the TV program that aired. Afaitu told me it was broadcast in the US and French Polynesia simultaneously. By now, it will have been shown in Europe with the morning news, and he mentioned something about a u tube that allowed people on the internet to watch it. I'm not totally certain what that meant, and it's probably not a big number, but the idea is that the world knows about us now, Kate. They had to for me to be sure we were safe."

"But how does that affect where we go from here, Rick? The Marquesas sound more manageable than Papeete, to me. It'd be much easier with the kids."

"It might at first, but someone will figure out where we are. We _have_ to tell the American Embassy, so we can work on getting the necessary papers. Ari'i lives on Nuku Hiva. I've only been there a couple of times, when I was working on the _Iriata._ It has an airport, although I was told it was small. But, just think about the chaos that would ensue once the press figures out where we are. They aren't equipped on that island to handle that kind of bedlam. It would be unpleasant and potentially dangerous."

"How would Papeete be any better?"

"Well, they have a much bigger police force, for one thing. Though, ultimately, I'm not sure the police will be all that involved. Apparently, the French government has already pledged to provide security and have even invited us to be housed on one of the bases there. That would provide an extra layer of protection from the hordes."

"I don't know, Rick. I think I'd feel more imprisoned if I were on a base. I'm surprised you'd be ok with it." She was absently tracing patterns on his skin, offering what little comfort she could. There was no doubt that prison had affected him—how could it not? She was truly amazed by what he'd suffered to protect them all.

"I'm not ok with any of it; I wish it weren't necessary to think about at all—we could just go live with Ari'i for a while and be able to introduce the kids to modern life at our own pace. But, we have to be realistic, too. Would I want to be sequestered on a military base? No, not after months in prison. But, I'll do it if I have to; if it's what's best for our family."

"I know you will," she whispered, kissing him again. "You've been through so much, it seems surreal to me. But I need to be as strong as you've been, when my first instinct is to run away."

"We'll do it together, Kate. We can do anything together—we've proved that over and over."

"Does it have to be on a base, though?"

"No, I imagine Afaitu could find us a hotel or house to rent. If the French are serious about offering us a security presence, we wouldn't have to be on a base. We'll just have to see how it shakes out."

"So, it seems that the Naval ship might be the best option? They could be here tomorrow as well?" She felt him tense again at the question.

"They might be able to be here tomorrow. There's another factor at play with the Naval ship, and it might interfere with when they could be here, not to mention whether we want to be on it."

"What do you mean by that?"

"They've been tasked with hunting down Grollet and bringing him back to Papeete to face justice. If they're successful, and let's face it—Grollet has few resources at this point—then he'd be on board as well."

Kate collapsed onto her back and stared, unseeing, into the dark ceiling. "Wow, that's—wow. Talk about a full fucking circle."

Rick reached across her body and stroked down her arm so he could entwine their fingers. "He'd be the one locked up, this time. The one who faces prison."

"I just don't know if I'm willing to put myself that close to him, or the kids."

Rick was silent, and she wondered what he was thinking. Perhaps he was anxious to get back to Papeete, but was afraid to tell her. She was about to speak when his harsh whisper broke the stillness.

"I've seen him, you know. Grollet. Had to shake his hand."

Kate's breath caught, not only at the words but the raw hurt and anger she could hear behind them.

"I didn't have a choice. We didn't have time to tell you this afternoon, but after Afaitu brought my mother to Nuutania, they essentially held a small press conference in the parking lot to announce who I was and that she was there to get me released. She begged him, through the media, to let me out. And it worked; by the next morning the press had descended on that little parking lot, and I was called out of my cell and told I was free to go. I cried when the bag containing all the possessions they'd seized from me was opened and I saw my wedding ring again. My mother took it from me, hung it around my neck and told me that you were out there, somewhere, waiting for me. It gave me the strength to get through the next few hours."

Kate's eyes welled up with a few tears of her own. She'd been devastated by his disappearance, by the stupid accident that had taken him from her. Yet, she'd had the kids. She'd still had their family. How much worse it must have been for him, with no one to love him. Locked away no better than a caged animal, knowing that the people in charge simply wanted him to disappear.

"I was sent to shower and shave. When I got back to the room where Afaitu and Mother were waiting, _he_ came sauntering in. And I remember that he said something about being _glad_ to see me again, and I had to _lie_ through my teeth and answer back that I was happy to see him as well."

His voice, which had been a harsh whisper when he'd started speaking, had picked up in volume as he relived that day. Kate could feel his rigid muscles beneath her hand; feel his jagged breaths on her skin. She even thought she might hear his heart hammering away in its bony cage.

Or perhaps it was her own that she heard.

"I had to stand in front of those cameras with him and smile; pretend that there was no better man in the world than he for commuting my term. My term, when he'd been the one responsible for putting me there in the first place!"

Kate rubbed his chest, trying to calm him, but he was lost in the black void of his memory from that day. They'd shown a few clips of his release from prison in the montage that had been part of the Sixty Minutes broadcast that day, so she had some idea of what had happened.

"And then," he choked, "and then…I had to shake his hand. I had to touch that slimy snake that had tried to kill us both so long ago, and then tried to do it all over again when he had them throw me in jail. I can hardly remember what else I said, but I know _all_ I was thinking about was how I was going to kill him if anything had happened to you or the kids. I had to touch him, when all I _wanted_, all I _needed_, was to find you."

She could feel his tears dripping on her skin, mixing with her own. Gathering him in her arms, they sobbed against each other until exhaustion gave way—but not before they'd exchanged a few gentle kisses and they'd both given thanks that the man who'd accidentally brought them together hadn't succeeded in permanently separating them.

* * *

He was being watched. He wasn't sure how he knew this, beyond the unsettled feeling in his stomach and the little hairs on the back of his neck standing up, but he was sure of the fact. He was under surveillance by an unknown force.

Friend or foe, he'd have to deal with it one way or another.

Peering to his side, he spotted them immediately. Two of them.

Though, to be honest, they didn't appear to be trying to hide from him. He was theirs to control: they knew it and he knew it. Wishing for a few more hours of autonomy was not in the cards.

He threw up his hands and stood up from the sand where he'd been sitting, staring forlornly at the saline lake. Wondering how long it would take to kill him if he drank from it.

If it would be an especially painful death.

At his core, he was a coward. Though his mouth was parched as dry as the Sahara, he had somehow resisted drinking from the tempting blue waters.

He'd spent the night terrified. Alone on this island—there might be some terrible predator out there, hunting him. It was so dark, he would never know it approached until its sharp teeth sunk into him.

In his more rational moments, he knew he was being ridiculous. After all, his own tourism department bragged about how there were no dangerous animals or insects in French Polynesia.

Still, perhaps some wickedly clawed jaguar had escaped off a ship that had foundered nearby. Or a tiger, off a circus boat.

His imagination had built the images from there, until he was paralyzed with fear, unable to move from the rotting floor of the rotting building he'd picked to spend this ghastly night within.

His guttural panting had contributed to his fluid loss, so when morning finally dawned, after what seemed like twenty terrifying hours, he was near crazed from thirst.

Though some might argue that he'd been crazed prior to being dehydrated.

Somehow, he'd found enough self-control to curb his desire for water until noon. Little did he realize that sitting on the beach with the lake right in front of him was flirting with danger.

The fact that he'd flung some perfectly ripe coconuts in anger into those tantalizing waters never registered more than a slight satisfaction at the splashes they made.

After all, he couldn't hear the sloshing of the coconut water inside when it impacted the lake so far away from him.

But now, just as he was approaching his breaking point and was ready to give in to the siren call of the beautiful blue waves calling him forward, he'd felt the eyes on him.

And though it was clear that he didn't know who they were, and thus they must not be friendly, he was still glad. For people meant water.

He'd give his left arm for a drink.

In the end, it only cost him a kingdom.

"Henri Grollet, you are under arrest by order of Nicholas Sarkozy, President of France. Please stand and come with us."

* * *

He was being watched. He wasn't sure how he knew this, beyond the unsettled feeling in his stomach and the little hairs on the back of his neck standing up, but he was sure of the fact. He was under surveillance by an unknown force.

Friend or foe, he'd have to deal with it one way or another.

Peering to his side, he spotted them immediately. Two of them.

Though, to be honest, they didn't appear to be trying to hide from him. He was theirs to control: they knew it and he knew it. Wishing for a few more hours of autonomy was not in the cards.

He threw up his hands and sat up from the bed. "What do you want, boys?"

"Daddy, Daddy, it's time to get up! I'm hungry!" Patrick squealed.

Rick groaned at the volume. He would have loved a few more hours of sleep.

Kate giggled next to him, though the traitor didn't bother to sit up. "Welcome home, Daddy."

"C'mon, Daddy. We need to go see if Salesi and them are all ok," Alex added.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," he said, stretching as he stood. It might have been for fewer hours than he was used to, but it had still been the best damn sleep he'd had in months. A few minutes in the arms of Kate was worth hours without her.

The boys ran ahead of him, pushing each other in their eagerness to get to the kitchen before the other. Rick turned back to Kate, who was still relaxed in their bed. The sight was more than enough to bring a large grin to his face.

"Are you going to get up today?"

"Oh, I don't know. I could go for a big, strong man feeding me while I lounged in bed."

"Ok, I'll send Salesi up after we eat, then." He ducked the pillow she threw, though it had been a half-hearted toss. "Seriously, anything you want to eat?"

"There should be plenty of eggs. It's Patrick's turn to gather them. Alex can go get more coconuts. You know what we like. Just make plenty, as I imagine those friends of yours can eat a lot."

"Got it. Lots of food."

"I was thinking we could kill some of the chickens for dinner. No need to conserve the population, after all."

"Hmm, I hadn't even thought about the chickens. Man, there's a lot to consider. Ok, I'll get breakfast going and after we need to start deciding what stays and what comes with us."

"I'll be down once Sarah has woken up and nursed. There's no rush, Rick. Even if we have a ship anchored off the island later today, they still have to wait for us. It's not like they're gonna leave without us."

"You're so wise, my lady," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her. "See you in a bit."

As he walked out of the house to join his waiting sons, he couldn't help but bounce a little. This was one of the happiest mornings of his life. He'd sacrificed his freedom to save them, at a cost he'd have paid in blood if needed.

It was a price he'd been willing to tender, but perhaps unfathomable to those who lived without the love that poured out of his soul.

* * *

**Thank you so much to all who are still reading this fic. It's been such a pleasure getting to know you all. Without fantastic readers, I'd never have been able to keep toiling away at this story. Hope you liked this chapter as much as I did. It's one of my very favorites.**


	70. Chapter 70: A Slamming Door

**This chapter is dedicated ZingerCaskett. A fellow knitter, we've had some fun PMs and emails about our shared love. She is currently knitting like crazy to finish a project in time for a special night, so I wish her happy knitting and thanks for the pattern recommendation. Oh, and she loves Surviving Paradise too—thanks for all the encouragement!**

* * *

April, 2010

"That was delicious. Thank you, Rick, Alex and Patrick for the wonderful meal," Laurent declared as he sat his empty cup down. "It is amazing to think about the variety of foods you were able to find on this island."

"Well, as you know we were very fortunate in that it had been cultivated at some point by the Polynesians, not to mention the fact that Grollet was planning on starting a farm. Without the seeds for the garden and the fruit saplings, our diet would have been far less varied," Rick answered.

He'd found the boys earlier in the kitchen already going about their chores—they'd apparently figured if they finished their work they could then run down to the tents to see if the men were up. Rick had explained that just visiting the camp would probably wake the men—especially Patrick, who was not likely to be a quiet visitor—and that the boys needed to stay with him.

The promise of surprising Mommy with breakfast had distracted them long enough to allow the men at the beach to arise and get ready for the day sans two young 'helpers'.

"So, what's the plan today, Rick?" Laurent asked. He hadn't been made privy to the decisions related to the sat phone call last night.

Rick looked at Kate, who nodded. She was more than happy to let him speak for the family; they made their decisions together. She didn't relish any extra attention, while her husband didn't mind it.

"Kate and I need to start sorting out what we're bringing with us. I'm also need to make a phone call, to Afaitu. I need to tell him which ship we're going to use."

"Which ship? I didn't realize there was much choice." The men were looking with interest at him, and Rick nearly laughed out loud. After months of being forced to follow decisions made for him by others he suddenly found himself in the position of holding the information wanted by other people. It was a bit surreal.

He quickly explained about the Naval ship versus the cargo boat captained by his friend.

"So, Ari'i's then," Salesi declared, standing to take his empty plate to the sink.

"How do you know? He hasn't said which yet," Loison responded.

Salesi just gave him an inscrutable look and walked out of the kitchen, off to do Salesi things.

"Well, which is it?" pressed Loison.

"He's right, Ari'i's ship it is," Rick smiled.

"How'd he know?" Guilbert wondered.

"He knows me. And while he just met Kate in person, he knows her too. From all that I talked about her while we sat in our bunks, shooting the breeze. Well, that is, I spoke and he listened."

"You said you needed some shots for Paris, M. Laurent?" Kate recalled.

"Yes. The morning light will be perfect for many of them. We'll be using both video and stills. I was wondering, M. et Mme Rodgers, may we borrow one or both of your sons for this excursion? They could be very helpful in showing us around."

After another silent query to Kate, Rick agreed with the reporter. "As long as they want to go. I won't force them."

Naturally, both boys were eager to go on such an exotic excursion. They set out with the three journalists and Tamahere, who'd received a silent plea from Kate during the discussion. He'd make sure the boys were kept safe. It wasn't that Kate didn't trust the other men, but she didn't know them well. They were journalists, after all.

* * *

It took a good thirty minutes for Laurent to explain the intricacies of the large sat phone to Rick. Due to the remote location of French Polynesia, and the even more remote location of Tuaivi, they were limited to using a Low Earth orbit company; specifically, Iridium, the only company that offered global coverage.

Once Rick understood how to make calls (which was cheaper than if Afaitu called them) and why dropouts were expected, frequent, and a pain in the ass (due to loss of signal when a satellite rotating past them couldn't hand off the call to the next satellite), the journalists, boys and Tamahere set off on their quest.

"Nearly alone at last, Mrs. Rodgers."

"You'll be surprised at how much trouble this one can get into on her own," Kate responded, nodding at Sarah who was looking angelic in the little pen Rick had built for Alex when he became mobile. "I usually employ one of the boys to keep her busy just so someone keeps track of her."

"What kind of trouble could she possibly cause? Look at her, there's practically a halo visible."

"Huh, she's already got you wrapped around her finger then! One day, Alex had gathered all the eggs and brought them to the kitchen. I wasn't paying attention, and next thing I knew, they were broken, every one, and Little Miss here had about eight eggs worth dripping through her hair. What a mess!"

"Well, surely it's not too unusual for a baby to break raw eggs. They're pretty fragile."

"The eggs were in a basket with a lid on it. She had to open it to get to them."

"Ok, but if Alex left it in her reach, then I don't blame her for being curious. She must be pretty dexterous to have opened it up alone."

"I'd agree—if Alex had left them out where she could get them."

"Where were they?"

"In the middle of the table. The table which is much taller than her, by the way. She wouldn't have even been able to see the basket: I know, because I got down to her level later to see what she could and couldn't see from her little corner. She waited until I was distracted, then climbed the stools to the table to get to the basket."

"My little ninja!"

"Whatever. Next time she ninjas a mess, you're cleaning it and her up!"

Rick grinned. He was so glad to be back, messes and all.

* * *

"Afaitu?"

"I'm here, Rick."

"We've decided that we'll return to Papeete, though we don't want to stay on a base. What about Mo'orea? Would that be an option?"

"It might, though the lack of an airport might be an issue."

"I was thinking it might be an advantage, in terms of the press hounding us. There'd be more limited access."

"I'll talk it over with Jim and Martha; we'll start looking around for appropriate locations both on Tahiti and on Mo'orea. After all, you don't have to stay in Papeete. Tahiti is much more than just Papeete, after all."

"You're right. And it's a good idea to look on both islands. Any news from the Embassy?"

"They want you to bring back at a minimum high definition 1080i video and stills of your calendar. They'd prefer if you brought it back with you."

"I did mention that they're a bunch of heavy bamboo poles, right?"

"You did, but they want proof of the kids' birthdays. Were you guys accurate on the dates?"

"I'm pretty sure we were—we made it a priority, as we didn't want to end up celebrating Christmas on what was actually January 2nd or something like that. Plus…well, it was very important to Kate that we were accurate so that she could reflect on her mom on January 9th."

"You haven't checked yet?"

"To see if we were off? Honestly, no. We had a lot to do yesterday, Afaitu!"

"I know, I know you did. It's just one of those housekeeping things that'll bite us in the hand later if we don't take care of it now."

"Then I'll go check right after we hang up, ok. What is the date today, anyway?"

"April 30th. What else?"

"Umm, what exactly is high definition 1080i?"

Afaitu's laugh barked clearly over the phone. "I keep forgetting that even though you've been back amongst the living for months that your circumstances kept you from learning anything about modern technology."

"Well, believe it. I still am amazed by the size of the cell phones you guys have now. Not to mention the GPS stuff they used on the boats. Wow, would that have prevented a lot of problems if we'd had it ten years ago."

"That's the truth for sure, Rick. Oh, I almost forgot to mention in all the excitement of your being safe, that the Navy knows which island Grollet should be on. They're hopeful they'll have him in custody today. The liaison told me they'd call sometime tonight with an update, even if they don't catch him."

"I look forward to hearing good news then."

"Are you still set on using a boat to return in?"

"Kate and I talked about it last night, and we agreed that's the best option for our family. We also discussed which specific ship, and have elected to continue to impose on Ari'i's hospitality, if that's all right with him. I'm gonna call him after we're done talking and get him moving this way."

"Ok. Let's say he'll be there tomorrow at the earliest. You'll use the Zodiac to move stuff to his ship, then about 5 days to come back, give or take?"

"Sounds about right. Kate and I are spending this morning making a list of stuff to go. I have no idea right now how much we're talking about, so I don't know how long it will be to get loaded."

"Well, Ari'i was empty when you all left Mo'orea. Good thing, too."

"Ten years is a lot of time to spend in one place. Speaking of which, what is going to happen to the island once we leave? Are people suddenly going to invade, looking for souvenirs?"

"That's something I want to talk to the new president about. The island is owned by the government, currently. It was marked as a bird sanctuary, as no one thought it could sustain anything else. The French navy is sending another ship to stand guard in the area until a decision is made; they don't want people on that island any more than you do."

"But in the meantime?"

"In the meantime, I'd take anything you at all remotely think you'd want to preserve. It might not be there when you come back."

* * *

Rick found his wife and daughter in the kitchen, where he'd left them. Kate was hunched over a notebook that he'd brought with him, making a list.

"How's it going?"

"I've made some headway, but I think it'll be easier to go from place to place and look at stuff. I'm sure I'm forgetting a bunch of things."

"That's a good idea. We could start here; I expect the boys would like to help, and they ought to be back in the next few hours."

"How'd it go with the phone calls?"

"Good, I got through to Ari'i; he thinks he can be here tonight if he pushes, but I told him not to rush. We've got a lot to sort through first. So, there might be more mouths for breakfast tomorrow."

"How many more mouths?"

"Three or four. He'd bring some of the crew with him to help start loading."

"This is really happening, isn't' it?" The waver in her voice confirmed the pinched look on her face. His indomitable wife was scared.

"Yeah, Kate, it is. I know it's been like a hurricane blowing into your life, but this is a good thing. And we'll have days on the boat before we arrive."

"I hope I can do this. Do you think I can make it in the real world?" Her eyes were damp, and he could see her trembling lips. It floored him, how this woman who'd given birth to three children without any pain meds, without any medical care, who'd survived a _desert island_ for ten years could lack any self-confidence, let alone her ability to cope with the pressure of modern society.

"Katherine Houghton Beckett Rodgers, you are the strongest woman I've ever met. Do I think you can make it in the real world? That's the wrong question. The real question is if anyone in the real world can be a tenth as kick-ass as you are."

She gave him a shy smile, but he could see his little attempt to lighten her mood had fallen short. He moved closer to her and pulled her to stand so he could wrap her up in a big hug. Kissing her hair, he waited until she started to relax in his arms before speaking again.

"Kate, I can't deny that people are going to be watching us. You, me, even the kids. We've survived something that most people can't imagine going through. Not only did we live, but we lived a long time apart. Brought 3 children into the world. There will be those who criticize us. Maybe they'll be jealous. Maybe they'll have legitimate gripes, though I can't imagine what those would be right now. But there are also going to be people who'll adore us, for no other reason than that we're attractive and famous people now. Well, you're attractive at least. Most people will listen to our story and think, 'wow, that's quite a tale' and move on with their lives. The point is we'll have detractors. We'll have rabid cheerleaders. And we'll likely have, on the whole, lots of support from the majority of people. But none of that matters, not at all. Even if the whole world were to be against us, we'd still make it. You know why?"

He felt her nod against him, even as a tiny sob tore through her. "Cause we've got each other."

"That's right. It's you and me, sweetie. We're gonna make mistakes. With the kids, with the press. We're not perfect, and this is going to be a hard change for us to bear as a family. But we'll get through it, just like we always have."

* * *

"There's no reason to bring kitchen items, Rick. They're barely serviceable as it is. We'd never use them off the island, and I don't think they're even fit to go to a charity."

Rick looked at the plate he was holding. They were down to just a few. Ten years and three kids were hard on table settings.

"I'm just worried about something Afaitu said. Given the degree of interest people have had in our story, I'm worried we'll sail off leaving this all behind only to find it up for sale at some auction somewhere in Tahiti."

"Doubt that," Salesi said behind him. He'd apparently just returned from a swim, as his hair was damp.

"I agree with Salesi," Kate said, giving the man a smile. "Look at that plate, Rick. You can't even tell what color it's supposed to be. No one will buy this junk."

"No, I meant it won't be auctioned in Tahiti," Salesi corrected. "It'll be on Ebay."

"Ebay? That's still around? It was just starting to grow when I was in college at Stanford. One of my friends tried to buy some plane tickets on it."

"Yeah, still around. Pretty big, these days."

"So, you're saying we shouldn't leave it behind?" Rick was not shy in celebrating his victory over his wife.

Sadly, it was short lived.

"We are not taking these plates with us, Rick. There's a lot of stuff I want to bring; old plates are not one of them."

"But Afaitu said…"

"What about the cave?" Salesi interrupted.

"The cave? The cave! That's genius, Salesi," Rick exclaimed. "We can start storing stuff in there that we don't take. No one outside of a handful knows about the cave. It's perfect!"

He grabbed the few plates, silverware and bowls that they owned and started walking towards the cave. His wife calling his name interrupted his proud march.

"Rick! _Rick! _We still have to eat!"

Minor detail.

* * *

Tissot watched the camera feed of the man. Like Tane before him, Grollet was unnaturally calm and quiet. The men who'd brought him in had said he'd given up without a fight, just asking for water.

He'd not even responded to their proclamation that he was under arrest.

Which did not bode well, in Tissot's opinion.

The doctor had checked him out, but other than a case of mild dehydration, the man was healthy.

He'd been placed in the room they'd used for Tane's interrogation two hours earlier, and had just sat quietly in the chair since then. Sipping on the bottled water they'd provided and looking like he could take a nap.

None of Tissot's orders said that he needed to confront the man. They had lots of evidence, and, now that Tane was singing a song loud and clear, the case against one former President was nearly open and shut.

However, his orders didn't specifically mandate that he not speak to the man, either. Tissot wouldn't do anything to jeopardize this slime's progress through the justice system. However, he would take pleasure from knocking the nonchalant look off of his face.

A great deal of pleasure.

Standing abruptly, he waved off his escort. Grollet knew this was a naval ship. There was no need to remind him of that fact.

He entered the room with authority, but not with any overt display of machismo. Grollet was no commanding physical presence, and he could be intimidated by the threat of brute force. However, Tissot surmised that Grollet fancied that he was smarter than everyone else.

Beating down his cocky attitude would be much more satisfying than beating the man's body.

However, Tissot acknowledged both would be pleasurable.

"Finally, Capitaine Tissot! Why am I being treated like a common savage? What is going on?"

Tissot chose not to answer. Instead, he crossed to the table and pulled out the empty seat slowly, deliberately. His posture screamed that he was in full command. He would not speak until _he_ decided.

As a strategy, it was remarkably effective. Grollet's protests finally petered out and the men sat in silence for seconds…that then stretched into minutes.

Tissot noted with satisfaction that the man had a light sheen of sweat on his forehead. He might appear calm and collected, but his body gave away the truth.

He waited a few more deliciously long minutes before speaking.

"You are to be taken back to Papeete and placed in custody."

It was a fact, not a question. They both knew what he was facing, though Grollet wanted to continue to pretend otherwise.

"I _must_ strongly protest this whole charade. I don't know whose orders you are following, but whoever is behind this mockery is quite delusional." Grollet's affronted affect was quite amusing. But not even remotely effective. Suddenly, the former President leaned forward, wanting to make it seem as though they were two conspirators plotting together.

"I know, Capitaine Tissot, that you are not responsible for this egregious miscarriage of justice. You are a military man, made to do the bidding of those in charge of you. However, once we arrive back in Tahiti and the truth is known, I will not blame you for your mistake here. Your men have treated me well, so far. I will be merciful. For those that have betrayed me, however…..well, they will rue the day they ever turned on me."

Tissot managed to keep his countenance unchanged, though he'd wanted to move far away from Grollet's oily face leaning so close to his own. The wash of the man's fetid breath disgusted him, but more than just the odor. It was the promise of the words, the sibilant self-confidence, the conviction that all would be well once they got back to the capital.

This man, this ugly man, had committed a grave atrocity then built on it for years in order to achieve power and glory. It was no wonder he thought he could continue to trade on the foundation of that sacrifice of two young innocents that he'd offered on the altar of a sinking ship. He'd extracted blood to pay his dues.

But it was not his blood that he'd offered. He'd managed to hide his dark deeds for a decade, but no longer. Now the world knew his dirty little secret. And Tissot would be the one bringing him in to face the collective stares of society. He could not hide now. Could no longer cower under the veneer of a suave, attractive hero who'd undertaken the task of working for the people of French Polynesia. The serpent who wore that mask would be uncovered.

Tissot was profoundly grateful he would play a small role in the process that would, at long last, deliver some degree of reparation for Richard Rodgers and Katherine Beckett.

Grollet had sunk back into his chair, unsure of what to do when Tissot had completely ignored his pointed remarks intimating that this was all a big mistake. Most people became very nervous if they thought they might not be on the right side of a power play. Tissot was unreadable.

Silence stretched out once more, and Tissot was even more amused to be able to smell once again that potent aroma of fear that he'd picked up on Tane just a day ago in this same room. It was quickly becoming one of his favorite scents.

Finally, he'd had enough. Grollet was clearly nervous, though he still was in the dark as to all that had elapsed. The jig was truly up for him, but he had no idea just how big the final nail in the coffin had been.

Standing, he allowed his facial expression to morph into the disgust that he felt when he looked at the monstrosity sitting at the table.

"Richard Rodgers has found the island where he was shipwrecked. He was very eager to return. Who would have thought? A man is abandoned, left behind on a desert island and for ten long years. Languishes away from the entire world, only to be thrown into jail after surviving a near fatal journey at sea. Then, after months imprisoned he is suddenly set free. Liberated at long last in a world that has changed dramatically in ways both big and small, and what does he do? Seeks out the very island where he'd been discarded so long ago. Strange behavior, is it not?"

Grollet sat, seeming unmoved though a tic of his left eyelid belied his contrived calm.

Tissot observed him for another minute in silence, wondering if he should continue. However, when the other man remained determinedly silent, he decided that he'd let him twist on the hook for a while.

Turning, he started for the door. Just as he was about to wrench it open, he at last heard a whisper of words emanating from Grollet. Torn from his lips, almost as if against his will. As if he could not help but to ask.

"What'd he find there?"

Tissot stood, rigid. Back squarely to the man, he strongly considered just walking out of the door and not even acknowledging the question at hand. Yet, in the end, he pivoted on one foot to face him again. Mask back in place, he regarded the other as if he were an interesting specimen about to be pinned in place.

"What did he find? He found _what_ he expected to, thank God. He found _who_ he expected to, and safe as well. He found the architect of your downfall, Monsieur. He found Katherine Beckett."

With that, he swung back to his original path and left, slamming the door behind. The _matelot_ stationed outside immediately turned the key in the lock, then resumed his post.

Only the camera feed captured Grollet's subsequent actions. How he jumped up and lunged at the door as it swung shut. How he pounded on it, screaming for release, violently torqueing the knob without success. How he then collapsed next to it, continuing to strike the door until he became exhausted.

He had no way of knowing it mirrored almost exactly the desperation Kate had felt at the sound of the lock turning in her door ten years ago. He'd not stuck around to hear her pleas, at the time. Like her, he thought he was doomed. Incarcerated without any hope of salvation.

Unlike her, he was guilty of the many sins for which he stood accused.

Nor did he have a Richard Rodgers caught with him in the same trap.

Ten years ago, a locked door had marked a new beginning for Kate Beckett.

Ten years later, it marked the end for Grollet.

* * *

**I'm a giant weenie, so I haven't watched the latest Castle ep. Please don't mention it in any reviews—I truly have no idea what happens, and would like to remain unspoiled. That said, I'd love to hear your thoughts on Tissot's discussion with Grollet and anything else that struck you about this update.**


	71. Chapter 71: That Which You Leave Behind

**This chapter is dedicated to GeekMom. Thank you for your enthusiastic reviews and tweets. She's an incredible writer as well, so check out her stuff here on ffnet. Love hearing from you!**

* * *

April, 2010

Celeste leaned forward, stretching in her seat. They'd just landed at LAX and would be deplaning in a matter of moments. She'd spent most of the transcontinental flight asleep, as she'd grabbed the first New York to L.A. flight available.

She'd planned the very long layover on purpose. She had a few items to wrap up for an actor client in Hollywood, as well as continuing to monitor and respond to the wave of publicity the Sixty Minutes broadcast the night before had generated.

To say that it was positive was an understatement. As she turned on her cell phone while the plane taxied she was amazed at the number of SMS texts and voice mails she had waiting for her. She feared her phone might explode with all the beeps and whistles it emitted.

They had certainly not put HB Management—the company she and Jim had formed—forward as representing Richard or Katie. She'd discussed it with her husband, and while it would make sense, for many reasons, they both worried that Katie, in particular, would resent the implications or think it condescending of them.

However, it was also clear that in the absence of any source to contact many had linked Richard to Martha, who was known to have been represented by HB for years. Some might even have figured out that the B in HB stood for Beckett and realized Jim's relationship to Katie. Regardless of the reasoning, they'd come to HB for information. Which, with Jim out of the country, meant her. Not that there was much that she'd reveal. The press would have their story, but first the kids needed to decide exactly what they wanted to feed them.

First class travelers deplane, well, first. So it was that she was off and walking rapidly to the passenger pick-up zone through the huge airport as soon as the jetway was in place.

HB maintained an office in L.A., of course. One of her assistants had been tapped to pick her up and take her there, where she'd work on the contract details for the actor first: it was nearly complete and would probably take less than an hour to wrap up.

Afterwards, she'd begin returning all these calls. Her first priority, though, was to let Jim know she'd landed. It would still be quite early in Papeete, but he'd asked her to call when she arrived.

His concern over her well-being was one of the myriad reasons why she loved him. Her first husband had never expressed any worry or consideration for her safety. His only interest in her had been that she cooked his favorite meals, kept the house clean and the kids well-behaved. Which meant out of his way.

He'd looked for the smallest violations of his rules, and there'd been hell to pay when he inevitably found her lacking. But Jim had taught her that not all men were interested in her as a mere housekeeper and bed warmer. He'd recognized her talent and encouraged her to spread her wings. HB was the result of their joint decision to stop living in the past and move forward together. Their success, as a company and as a couple, had exceeded all of her wildest dreams.

Her heart beat a little faster in anticipation of hearing his wonderful voice again. He'd been gone for days now, and she missed him. She couldn't wait to be in his arms again, especially to hold him and comfort him during this incredibly stressful time.

"Hi, darling," she chirped when he answered. "I'm in L.A., just walking to meet Henry and go to the office."

"How was your flight?"

"Fine. I slept most of it."

"Really? You almost never sleep on planes!"

"I was tired. The broadcast created a firestorm of interest, and it seems a lot of people decided HB was the logical place to turn to for more information. I finally had to put my phone on silent, just to get some sleep."

"Have you seen any reactions yet?"

"Not beyond the internet reporting before I went to bed, all of which was quite positive and incredulous. People were amazed at the story, as we expected. There's a huge curiosity factor in terms of seeing just how they survived, and the fact that there are children involved really pushed buttons for many."

"Yeah, I'll bet your flight to Papeete will be full of even more press."

"I'm sure it will be. I spoke to the AFP liaison in Paris after the broadcast. He told me that Laurent would be sending them video and stills of much of the island today. They said they'd call you once they had the raw footage and let you know what they planned to do next."

"Sounds good. I obviously haven't spoken to Afaitu yet today, but he's expecting a phone call from Richard this morning. They need to make a decision on how they're getting back and where they'll be going."

"I can't wait to get there, to see you again," she murmured, voice almost indistinct with suppressed emotion. She had to hold it together for the rest of the day. Falling apart now would help no one.

"Me too. I've missed you by my side. And I know Martha would love to have you here. She's trying to be brave and strong, but it's been such an emotional rollercoaster. She needs her best friend." His voice cracked slightly, revealing just how much he was longing for her.

"Less than 15 hours, and I'll be there. Will you be picking me up?" She knew he would never delegate that task to someone else, unless there was a real crisis. But the teasing in her voice helped keep the conversation light enough so they keep their emotions in check.

"Of course I will. Call me if anything big turns up in the meantime?"

"I will. I asked Henry to print off the remarks from the major news sites and he'll have a pile of newspapers for me to bring, too. See you tonight, honey."

Ringing off, she was thankful to see she was almost to the doors. She was eager to get started on everything, knowing that it would make the hours until her next flight fly by. The hours that yet separated her from her husband.

Given her determination, very little would have made her stop.

However, the sight of Katie's eyes peering at her from a bright display in a news shop halted her in her tracks.

As if in a trance she moved towards them, not even noticing the glares and harsh words others sent her way when she stumbled into their hurried paths.

It was Katie. Or, rather, her head, on the cover of what was touted as a special edition of People Magazine. A smaller picture of Richard was inset in the lower right corner.

The lead story headline screamed "_Their Long Lost Love Story,"_ but there were blurbs about the other stories inside as well. The one that made her heart drop read "_Everything You Need to Know About Kate Beckett."_

The one that made her bile rise read "_Mother Murdered, Father a Drunk. She Never Knew that Justice had been Found."_

Oh, how Jim was going to hate this.

She had a feeling Katie would be horrified.

* * *

"What's been the reaction in the States?" Martha asked. She and Jim were waiting at Afaitu's favorite diner. They were due to have breakfast with the young man and plan their day.

"So far, great. Celeste said there was a horde of calls after the program aired. I looked at a couple of the big news sites, like CNN, before I walked over here. Most are just reporting the bare story based off what aired last night. It'll be interesting to see how many reporters fly in with Celeste tonight."

"Oh, there's already enough here. It's going to be so stressful on Richard and Katie, having to deal with all of this!"

"Yes, but it's better than the alternative."

They sipped their coffee, waiting in companionable silence as they each reflected on what _could_ have been. The unrelenting press attention was a worthwhile price to pay.

At least for now.

"The thing that makes me sick to my stomach with worry isn't when they first get back. I really, really wonder if they'll be left alone once they're here. Allowed to re-adjust, to help the children's transition," Martha fretted, tearing her napkin into shreds without noticing.

"I've been thinking about that very thing," Jim drawled. Martha's quirked eyebrow showed she was waiting for him to continue.

"Well, one of the problems that celebrity parents face is jockeying for photos of the kids, especially newborns, who've obviously never been seen before. To get around the demand, some of the ones with the highest appeal have sold their photos in exclusive deals."

"Oh, like Brangelina. I remember they sold pictures of the twins to…I think it was _People_?"

"Exactly. It was a joint deal with _People_ and _Hello!_ magazines for a total of fifteen million dollars. Jennifer Lopez and Marc Anthony sold the photos of their twins that same year, also to _People_, for six million."

"But the kids have already been seen, in the interview on _Sixty Minutes_."

"True, but it was fairly brief, and before they've gotten a real haircut. I know that Richard and Katie tried to look as good as they could, but there's only so much you can do on an island without any help. So, I think there will be a market for photos, and if the kids want to make an exclusive deal, it might help assuage the public's curiosity and decrease interest later."

"Well, I think that's definitely something to consider. Oh, Jim, I'm so glad that you're here. I'll make sure they know just how much work you've done on their behalf."

"It's not work when it involves Katie, Martha."

She nodded. They both knew that Katie's reaction to Jim's presence was still a huge unknown. Martha just hoped that the younger Beckett would give her dad a chance.

* * *

"What are you thinking about?" Rick asked, reaching out to cradle his wife's cheek as she stood staring towards the orchard, not paying attention to anything else.

"Hmm?" she startled, "oh, nothing."

"It's not nothing, Kate. Tell me."

She shrugged, self-conscious. He gave her his most earnest puppy dog eyes; they never failed.

Her clear laugh demonstrated it wasn't anything to do with him, but he wanted her to share her troubles with him. They were a team.

"This might sound stupid," she started.

"Nothing you say is stupid, Kate. Nothing. Talk to me."

"Well, we've been making this list of things to take," she pointed to the paper in his hand. "And I _know_ that material things aren't important at all; I only need the kids and you, nothing else. But, I can't help but think that some of the best memories that I'll take from here involve things that we simply can't take with us."

"Like what?"

"Well, for starters, the house. The structures we built with our own two hands. Think about all the blood, sweat and tears that were left on the supports or in the thatch as they were built. Not to mention all the memories since then. Our babies were born here; they've never known another home. But it has to be left behind."

"You're right; they do mean a lot to us," Rick replied. The germ of an idea sprouted as he thought about how he could make leaving the island behind a little easier for her.

It was ironic, the situation they faced now. Ten years ago she had been the one desperate for rescue, while he had been the one pushing for the construction of better shelters, more permanent structures.

Now, faced with their imminent departure, she was the one balking.

Of course, he had an advantage: he'd already been gone for some time. He knew—to a degree—what awaited them at the end of this next journey. To her, it was a huge unknown, and he could tell that it scared her.

Truthfully, it scared him too. He had no idea how the children would react to such a radically different lifestyle. How Kate would react to her father; to his mother. How the world would treat them. He didn't even know how long they'd be in French Polynesia.

Yet, these were all situations that they would soon face. There was no diving back down the hole, nor did he really think Kate wished they'd not been found.

He just hoped she didn't change her mind a few weeks from now when their new reality settled into place.

"Are there any other places here that you wish we could bring with us?"

"The cave," she said immediately. "Not because we spent much time there, because we didn't. Not really. But it was a refuge when those bad storms erupted that year that Alex was 3 and Patrick was a baby. The outer beaches, where we spent our little vacations. I have some fond memories of watching you flexing those sexy muscles as you hauled in a catch. The canoe. I mean you built it by hand. And it meant so much for us, in terms of food gathering and being able to take advantage of the ocean."

"Those are all good answers, Kate. But they aren't the thing you're really gonna miss, are they?"

She looked at him with liquid eyes, full of unshed tears and just shook her head softly. He took her in her arms, rubbing circles in her back to soothe her.

"Is it the tree?" he asked as he held her tight. Feeling her slight nod, he knew he'd hit on the right reason. Kate had spent a lot of time with the tree he'd planted to mark Johanna Beckett's memory—it had grown into a gorgeous specimen. Whenever Kate needed some alone time, that's where she headed.

"Shhh, it's ok. It's ok. You know, it has to stay here. But that just means a part of her stays here, just as a big part of us remains behind too. It's like this place will be a living memorial to our family. And that tree—your mother's tree that I planted just before Alex was born—well, it will go on just like we will. I imagine we'll come back to visit, and you'll see that she's with us wherever we go. Not just here. Not just in New York. But wherever you are; where her grandchildren are. That's where she lives."

He held her for a while, both of them just breathing the other in. They might have stood there for hours for all he cared. Just holding her felt so right.

It was the crash that interrupted them.

Jumping at the tremendous noise, Rick nearly pulled a muscle as he wrenched his back in midair, trying to see what was attacking him from behind.

It was an attack, all right. Of the Sarah kind. She'd managed to climb out of the pen when her parents were busy with each other and had climbed to the table—site of the infamous egg incident—where she was now busy flinging the plates that Rick had tried to pack.

"No, Sarah, no, no!" he cried, jumping out of the way as another plate was launched towards him. The girl had quite an arm.

Kate was no help; she was apparently paralyzed by hysterically laughing. She'd collapsed in her chair by the time he got Sarah back into the playpen and had cleaned up the shards from the plate that she'd managed to break by tossing it right into a pole.

He stood glaring at his daughter for a minute, who had once again adopted a most angelic look, before he glanced at his wife, who was struggling to rein in her mirth.

Giving her a wry look, he started to grin as well. "Did you see that arm? She needs to play softball when she's older!"

"My dad will love that. He's a big baseball fan," she replied, still giggling. Then, as she realized what she'd said, her laughter trailed off.

Rick watched her face, as looks of anxiety and anger flittered across her mien.

"Kate?" he asked hesitantly. He knelt beside her chair, taking her cold hands into his.

"Tell me about him," she rasped. "Tell me about my father."

"I didn't meet him, you know. I'd already boarded Ari'i's ship to rescue you when he arrived. I can only tell you what Afaitu has told me, and my mother. But she's been friends with him for a long time, so Afaitu's observations are less biased."

"Why didn't he come with Martha? Why wasn't he here? Didn't he want to be here?"

"Oh, sweetie, I think he did. I think Afaitu worried about keeping him away. But we couldn't risk it until we'd found you, or were close. Grollet's people were watching everything. If Jim Beckett suddenly showed up in Tahiti, I was convinced that Grollet would know for sure at that point that you _were_ alive. Every word that I said, every action that I made at that time was to persuade him that you'd died when the _Iriata_ sank. Jim's premature arrival would have destroyed that illusion. So, he wasn't here because we wouldn't let him be. That's the simple truth."

A single tear rolled down her cheek as she considered his answer. "But he's here now?"

"Yes. He's helping Afaitu figure out a bunch of stuff. Afaitu is young, and not familiar with how things are done in the States. He's gone way, way above and beyond what anyone would have reasonably expected of him. But, I think he leans on Jim for support. Jim's been a lawyer longer than Afaitu's been alive, or close to it. He told me he felt that Jim had been a real rock for him."

"And you said Afaitu would never have spoken to your mother without Dad's help?"

"No. No, he wouldn't have. Mother was well protected, and Afaitu was getting desperate to talk to her. Without Jim, I don't think it would have happened."

He then went on to explain, in as much detail as he knew, all that Afaitu had gone through nearly 2 months ago. How Martha hadn't wanted to listen. How shocked Afaitu had been to learn that Martha's manager was in fact the father of Rick's wife, also missing for those terrible years.

She was quiet, though not withdrawn, when he finished speaking. Her hands still felt cold, and a few more tears had tracked down her cheeks, but she was taking it all in all more calmly than he'd expected.

She peered at his face, eyes as open and vulnerable as he'd ever seen when they (rarely) discussed her father. Given how distressing she found the topic, they'd just not spoken of him during their years together. It was easy to avoid sensitive issues when they weren't a part of your present life.

"How long did you say he's been sober now?"

"Afaitu said my mother got him to go into rehab not long after we disappeared. So it's been years."

"And he's not a lawyer now?"

"My understanding is that he's maintained his bar registration, but his work now involves management. My mother is a client, as you know, and it sounds like it's a pretty successful company. I think he does find his law degree to be pretty helpful in his current line of work."

She looked down again, and he knew what she was thinking. His heart ached for her. It didn't seem fair that she had to face the new reality of her father's life while at the same time trying to reclaim her own, but there was no way around it. Her father was intimately involved with their affairs; it was clear that he was an invaluable member of the team. This was his daughter and his grandchildren, after all. It was hard to imagine finding a non-relative who'd work as hard as Jim Beckett had on their behalf.

"You—you—you said he's r-r-r-remarried?"

He lifted her hands to her mouth and kissed them softly. She still wouldn't look up at him, but he felt her twitch in reaction to his soothing touch.

"That's what I'm told, love. To one of my mother's best friends."

"H-h-how long?"

"I'm not sure, Kate. It didn't come up."

"What—what's her name?"

"Celeste."

"Celeste? Celeste Beckett?"

"Uh, I—you know, I'm not sure of that either. I kinda think she kept her last name, but I don't know for a fact."

"Is she here, too?"

"Not that I know of, but we weren't really focused on where your stepmother was or what she was doing."

He felt her flinch hard at the term 'stepmother' and cursed his careless tongue.

"She's _not_ my stepmother. She's my father's wife."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply that there was a relationship between you two. Obviously, there isn't. Not yet. But, Kate, you're going to meet her. She's a big part of my mother's life, and she shares your father's life. We can't ignore her. And you don't know, maybe you'll find that you even like her."

She yanked her hands away. Breathing hard, she spit, "She's _not_ my mother. But she's _sleeping_ with my father. How am I ever going to accept her, let alone _like_ her? It's not possible."

Rick was quiet for a few minutes, thinking furiously about what to say next. His awkward phrasings had made this conversation even harder than it might have been, though Kate's grim memories of her time with her father after her mother's death would have been difficult to overcome even with a perfectly glib tongue.

With some trepidation, he decided to try and get her to think about what it must have been like for her father to find that he could love again. He was nervous enough that he almost left it alone, thinking that they'd keep working at this particular wound a day at a time. Yet, he realized how deep seated the hurt went. It needed to be drained, and perhaps an attack from a different angle would be helpful.

"Do you remember what you told me, the moment that I handed Alex to you?"

She looked at him sharply, wondering why he'd turned the conversation away from what they'd been discussing. Seeing his concern and sincerity, she nodded.

"You said that you couldn't imagine what love had meant before you saw him. That you knew what it meant to love me: we complement each other, make our two halves a whole, together. But the first sight of Alex…well, that was a love that just struck like a bolt of lightning out of the blue. We both knew that we'd do anything for him."

Kate gave a raspy chuckle. "He was such a mess, since you were busy with the afterbirth. He just looked at me, hardly cried at all. It was like he just knew I was his mom and that I'd take care of him."

"And those first nights were awful. We didn't know what we were doing, but he made it and we learned. What his cries meant, what he needed us to do for him. He taught us what the love for a child meant. He's brought us nothing but joy."

Kate nodded, not sure what he was getting at. But, he was right. Alex was love personified. Their love together had made him. Made an incredible human being.

"Then we decided to have another. Remember discussing it? How you didn't want Alex to grow up as an only child. How he was such an easy baby, that we should do it again. So, I stopped doing the papaya thing and suddenly you were pregnant again. And, thank God, it was easy. Everything went fine. Even the delivery was easier, since we both knew what to expect that time around. It seemed like no time at all and I was handing you Patrick. Another beautiful baby boy."

"He was so handsome. Alex loved him."

"And so did you, and I."

A sharp look speared him in place. "Of course we did. He's our child."

"Did you love Alex any less? You loved him first, but when Patrick came he took away some of your love?"

"What? No! I loved them both."

"How?"

She looked at him as if he'd grown two heads. "What are you getting at?"

"Just humor me, Kate. How did you love them both?"

"I just—I just did."

"Maybe when Patrick came, and later Sarah, your heart just stretched out so you could love all your babies the same."

"I suppose that's one way of putting it."

"So, don't you think it's possible that Jim's heart grew too? Once he found Celeste."

"It's not the same thing, Rick. They're my children. You're my husband; my soulmate. I could never marry again."

"And I love you, too. To the depths of my soul as well. But bad things happen, Kate. What if I'd never been seen again after drifting off in that boat? It nearly happened. Or what if Grollet had killed me outright? Do you really think that I'd want you to stop living and just pine for me? Start drinking to forget like your father did? I would want you to be happy, to go on living. To raise our kids to be great citizens of the world."

"I don't know if I could do it. If you were gone."

"You lived without knowing if I were alive or dead for months. Did you never laugh, never smile?"

"I did. You know I did. At things the kids did or said. But I didn't know for sure. I was convinced you were still there. I could feel you in my heart."

"But you'll always feel me there, as long as you live. I gave part of my heart to you to carry, to feel my love for you. And you did the same for me. But neither of us will live forever. All of us are fated to die, someday. And if my day is before yours, I want you to be happy. To live and laugh and remember us together. To see me in my children. But don't be afraid to let someone else love you too. Love doesn't take away from your life, it adds to it. And I think that's what Celeste has done for Jim. That doesn't take away from your mother; it just adds to your father."

A strangled sob escaped her. She lifted her arms towards him and he pulled her into his lap as he sat on the ground. "I didn't mean to upset you so much, Kate. It seems like all I've done since I've been back is make you cry."

She made a noise that sounded like a half whimper and a half laugh. "It's been emotional, there's no denying that. I know what you're saying is how I ought to feel, but _actually_ feeling it is another matter. I promise I'll think about it some more. Try to accept her."

"The good thing is that we've got days and days before you'll see him. Lots of time to think. And remember, no matter what, I'm always there for you."

"I know. I love you, so much. Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. You still haven't met my mother. I'm fully expecting that you'll want a divorce once you take one look at your mother in law."

Her resultant laughter was music to his ears.

* * *

**Love to hear any thoughts you have to share.**


	72. Chapter 72: Learning to Say Goodbye

**This chapter is dedicated to Cymru64. His reviews and PMs make grin from ear to ear. If I'm ever feeling down about my progress or the overall direction I've taken, I just need to re-read something he's written to me to get an immediate lift in my spirits. Thank you so, so much for everything. **

**I also want to wish a certain someone to feel better.**

* * *

April, 2010

Martha was beginning to feel faint. Afaitu still hadn't shown up, and the delicious aroma of other people's breakfasts was nearly enough to make her want to trip a passing waitress laden with delectable items that were headed to some other table.

Sipping on her second cup of coffee was not enough. She'd barely touched dinner the night before—still overwrought from having seen her son and getting her first glimpse of his wife and her grandchildren. Now, she was in danger of starving.

"Oh, Jim, this waiting just cannot be borne," she burst out while watching what appeared to be a plate of crepes and mouthwatering bowl of fruit waltz by their table. Turning her head back to look at her manager, her eyes flashed in annoyance at his smirk. "Where is he? I thought he was going to meet us at ten? Why, it's nearly half past. It'll be time for lunch soon!"

"I've never known you to be so worried about eating, Martha."

It was true. As a working actress, she typically erred on the side of eating very little. The camera was no friend to those who over-indulged. But the worry and stress of the last days—well, really since she'd landed in Tahiti, or perhaps from the day she met Afaitu—had seen her nibbling on even more unsubstantial quantities than usual. Now, she was hungry. For news. For plans. For her son. For his family.

For food, as her nose picked up a warm cinnamon and sugar bouquet that made a direct impact on her salivary glands.

"Make fun all you want, Jim, I'm starving. Oh, where is that man?"

Jim nodded towards the door. "He just walked in."

"Finally!"

She waved at the waitress while Jim raised his hand at Afaitu, who wove his way through the crowded room to their booth.

"Sorry I'm so late," he said, leaning over to kiss Martha's cheek before taking a seat next to her.

"Well, we were getting a little worried about you," Martha remarked, eyes lighting up when the waitress stopped to take their order. Afaitu waited until his coffee cup was filled and they'd ordered before turning to other matters.

"I spoke with Rick first. He told me that he and Kate will be coming back by Ari'i's cargo ship."

"By cargo ship? But isn't that awfully slow? That'll take several days, won't it?" Martha complained. She couldn't imagine why they would choose to take such a plodding pace when they could be back in nearly an instant if they took a plane.

"He didn't say why they decided on it, just that they had. Ari'i will be in place by tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow! Heavens, another day yet?" Martha was horrified at the delay.

"Yes, and then they'll need to load what they're bringing. Rick mentioned that he and Kate are sorting that all out now."

"Well, I suppose they do have a lot to cull. Ten years and all," she mused. "But that doesn't mean they still couldn't use a plane to return."

Jim reached across the table and covered her hands with his. "Martha," his eyes intent on hers, "think about what a change this will be for the children. I don't know Richard, not yet, but I do know Katie. I'm sure Richard and the others have explained the attention that's waiting for them when they re-appear. Gosh, I'm sure it was _not_ easy talking her into the video interview in the first place. Do you really believe that she'd then want to pick them all up and plunk them down into the mayhem here?"

"Well, no, not when you put it that way. I just want to see them. Touch them. And now I have to wait! How many days, do you think?" she wondered, turning towards Afaitu.

"I haven't checked the weather, but if there's nothing bad I think it will be about a 5 day journey by boat."

"Five days! That's…that's far too long, surely!"

"They won't be pushing hard like they did when they were trying to get to Kate. This will be a moderate pace; to keep them all comfortable."

Afaitu felt his heart lurch; he'd come to really like this woman. Seeing the silent tears roll down her face as he delineated the timeframe for them made him feel awful, even if he knew it was probably the best option for Rick and Kate's family.

He looked helplessly at Jim, who gave him a small shake of the head and looked pointedly away from Martha. Time to move the conversation to other topics.

Picking one that he knew would be well received, he blurted out, "The Naval liaison called me: Grollet is in custody."

"Oh, thank God!"

"That's great news!"

Jim and Martha's replies were simultaneous. Martha looked at her manager and gave a watery laugh. "At least we don't have to worry about that awful man causing any more trouble for Richard and Katie."

"No, not anymore. I talked to a government minister last night, after the broadcast had been digested. Due to the criminal charges, including attempted murder, that Grollet is facing, the French High Commissioner in Papeete was ordered by Sarkozy himself to remove Grollet from office. I'm not totally sure it's constitutional, but a special decree was ordered. Grollet is no longer president, and believe me when I tell you that the government will do nearly anything for us. They did not want Grollet to be on camera labeled as 'President' nor do they want to be seen as causing any sort of obstruction for the Rodgers family. This level of cooperation is going to be a huge boon for us. Why, they even offered to return Rick and Kate in one of the French Naval ships!"

"Well, that would be faster! Did you tell Richard about that option?" Martha pressed. She was desperate for them to arrive.

"I did, and Rick rejected it. I don't blame him in this instance, however. It's the same ship that is carrying Grollet back to face justice."

"Oh!" Martha's face collapsed. "I can't blame them for wanting to avoid travelling on _that_ ship."

"One thing we need to decide is where the family will stay once they get here. I think it will useful to gauge the press corps' level of interest in them over the next few days. The government offered the use of a military base for housing but Rick indicated this was not a top choice for them."

"I suppose the hotel suite I have wouldn't be optimal either," Martha mused. "The press seem to be everywhere in the lobby and it's nearly impossible to come and go without them noticing. Which is why that—that _Meredith_ loves it so much."

"Rick asked about Mo'orea. He said he thought it would be better than Tahiti since there's no airport. I don't agree with him, though."

"Why?" Jim asked. "Wouldn't that keep the numbers of press down?"

"I doubt it. It's a 45 minute ferry ride, and I'm certain that many of the press will simply hire ships to take them back and forth at will. It'd be a huge boon to fishermen here, as they'd make a killing with their boats for hire. But it wouldn't keep them away. And it might be worse: there's nowhere to escape to, unless it's by boat. I don't think we want to be boxed in like that."

"That does make sense. So, Papeete then?" Jim didn't know much about French Polynesia, but he had been impressed with the capital city and its surrounding suburbs.

"Not necessarily. Fa'a'ā is actually larger than Papeete, and is where the airport is located. It's the commune to the south of Papeete. Papera is the commune to the south of Fa'a'ā; they're both close to Papeete, but perhaps being outside of the capital would be useful."

"Commune?"

"Sorry, it's a French term. It's basically the smallest territorial division, in terms of administration. Think of it as a town. For example, Paris is a commune. Largest commune of all, in fact."

"Well, I would help you look, if I could, but I feel helpless as I don't know enough about the locations we're talking about," Jim offered.

"No, I realize this is going to be a decision that is largely on my shoulders. I'll narrow down the candidates and have you look at the descriptions to see if anything jumps out at you. You both have much more experience in avoiding the press than I do, obviously."

"Oh, yes, darling, I'd be happy to help in any way," Martha twittered.

"Are there any items that I can help with directly?" Jim didn't want the entire burden of the kids' return to be Afaitu's to carry.

"Indeed, there is one. And that is dealing with the American Embassy. This is by far the most complicated issue that we'll be facing, and will determine just how long Rick and Kate's family must stay here. For things to move forward, everything is dependent on this."

"Well, I made some contacts in the State department when I first learned about Richard being alive. Perhaps they will help."

"I do hope so. I'm told this is an unprecedented situation, and ironing it out is going to be a headache that is made even worse by the fact that the Embassy is in Fiji and not here."

"Will they have to go to Fiji?" Martha inquired. "It might be an advantage in terms of losing press."

"Eventually, they'll have to," Afaitu stated baldly. "But it's not so simple—just like everything that has happened so far. Neither Rick nor Kate has a current passport. Don't even get me started on the children. They have no birth certificates, so passports are out of the question in the initial phase. No, they cannot go to Fiji right away."

"Then how on earth is this going to be resolved?" Jim demanded.

"The Embassy will have to come to them. Or at least the Consulate. You officially have a job, my friend."

Jim gulped. Suddenly he couldn't wait for Celeste to arrive. Her skills in negotiation were going to be invaluable to get this mess fixed.

* * *

"What're you doin' with those? Why're all these baskets out here? What're we doin'?" Patrick sprinted up to his mother as Salesi's retreating back disappeared down the trail towards the waterfall.

It was mid-afternoon and the camera crew and their guides were just returning. Rick wandered out of the kitchen to greet them as the boys wandered around the baskets that he and Kate had placed just outside of the structure.

"Ugh, you boys need to go shower. Were you wrestling in mud? Don't touch that, Alex," Kate admonished.

"But mom, those are my toys! Why are they in a basket?"

"Shower first, then we'll talk."

Alex looked mutinous and Rick saw an argument brewing. The boys were covered in mud from head to toe. Tamahere hadn't fared much better. "Do as your mother asked, please," Rick ordered. Grumbling, his sons walked off to the house while Rick turned to Tamahere for answers. "What happened, anyway?"

His friend grinned at him. "Well, we'd done all the scenic shots and the boys showed us the bamboo groves and places like that. Then the crew asked about gathering food and stuff. So, the boys were filmed discussing how they would pick a coconut, for example. When we got to taro harvesting, they each picked a really big plant."

"They don't usually do the taros. Kate or I do."

"Well, they sure didn't mention that. They were out in the water; you know that shallow grove away from the waterfall?"

Rick nodded.

"I think they each picked the biggest plant they could find and started pulling. Of course the plants wouldn't budge, so I went out to see if I could help. It took all three of us to get one of them up, but it was so hard we fell when it finally gave way and we got covered in mud."

"You pulled it out? All the way?"

"Yeah. What do you do?"

"I usually just cut one of the corms off from the side and pull that out."

"Huh. That would have been a better idea. Well, anyway, it was a messy business. Luckily it was the last shot they needed."

"Where is the crew?"

"Down at the beach. They were going to upload the video and rest for a bit."

"What about lunch?"

"No worries there, my friend. Your sons gathered more than enough for a meal and showed them how they'd prepare it. I was impressed; you've raised them well."

"We taught them skills as soon as they could walk. We figured if anything happened to us, they would have to know how to survive."

"Well, they are true Polynesians at heart. I'm going to go have a swim and change. I'll meet you back here before dinner?"

"Yes. We're packing what we want to take in these baskets. Salesi is helping us store some things in the cave."

As Tamahere strolled out of sight, Rick heard the pounding of little feet running towards him. Looking up, he saw Alex and Patrick racing each other; Alex was leading, given his longer legs. Glancing in the kitchen, he saw that Kate was working at the fire while Sarah played in her playpen. For now.

"Careful, boys," he cautioned as they nearly fell after Patrick gave Alex a slight shove.

"Dad, he pushed me! Knock it off, Patrick."

"Hey, both of you need to calm down for a minute. Go sit on your stools. Now."

Sullenly they dragged their feet over to their chairs in the kitchen while he followed. Kate gave him a questioning look. He reassured her with a quick grin then turned back to his boys.

"Alex, you were wondering what your mother and I have been doing with these baskets. Well, after you guys left with the camera crew, I spoke on the phone to my friend Ari'i. Do you remember me talking about him?"

"Y-yeah!" Patrick shouted. "He was the first mate on your ship, but he got sick."

The boys were well acquainted with some of the facts regarding how he and Kate had come to be on the island. They knew all about Anapa and Hina and how wonderful they had been. They'd not been told about Grollet in any detail, however. He and Kate both thought it wasn't a story that the boys would understand, having never met—until now—other humans. They didn't have any real concept of people doing bad things for what appeared to be no reason.

"Less shouting, Patrick, please. But you're right, he was the first mate on the _Iriata_ and he was sick when Anapa broke his leg, so he wasn't on the ship when it sank."

"Is he comin' here too?"

"Yes, actually he is. He's got his own ship now. It's called the _Vaitiare_ and that's how I got here. The little boat we have here on the island can't go very far. His ship and crew will be here tomorrow morning."

"How many more people are coming?" Alex's wrinkled brow and biting of his lower lip were identical to his mother's look when she was worried about something. It was so adorable, Rick wanted to just give him a big hug and try to reassure him all would be well. His son's shy nature would lead to a lot of stress in the coming days.

"Two or three more will come from the big boat and join us on the island. I'll have to go out to the boat when it gets here to guide them in through the rocks."

"It must not be a very big boat," observed Patrick.

"No, it's really huge. Larger than from here to our house."

Both boys' eyes grew big at this declaration.

"Then how's it gonna fit through the channel, Daddy?"

"It's not. It'll stay out past the rocks. They have a little boat that they'll send to the island."

"Can we come with you?"

"Please, please, please?"

Rick looked uncertainly at Kate. The boys wouldn't get in the way, but he wasn't sure if it would be the right time to introduce them to the ship and crew. They wouldn't have much time to look around, and it might be a bit overwhelming.

Kate moved to sit next to her husband and join the discussion.

"I don't think that's a good idea, guys."

"Aww, mom, we wouldn't be in the way, promise."

"Why? Please, mommy."

"Stop whining, Patrick. Your mom's right, tomorrow morning isn't a good time for you to go to the big boat."

Patrick's bottom lip jutted out and Rick nearly laughed. Alex looked downcast, and, not for the first time, both of their parents had a stab of fear about how they were going to handle all the changes about to upend their lives.

"Do you boys understand that we're all going to get on the boat?" Rick could see the surge of excitement race through each boy, petulance immediately forgotten over the exclusion from the morning's excursion.

"We are? HOORAY!"

"YES!" Alex punctuated his happiness with a fist pump. It was a gesture he'd picked up from his father, and Kate found it both hilarious and endearing. "When do we get to go on it?"

"Probably tomorrow afternoon. We'll start loading stuff, and you guys can help."

Both boys bounced in their seat, while Rick looked at Kate in concern. Neither child seemed to understand the reality of leaving the only place they'd ever known. Sure, they'd talked about rescue with them at times, but it had been an abstract concept—until now.

"Do you guys remember when I gave you your own notebook, paper and pens in the cave that I told you we'd be leaving?"

Alex wiggled in his seat. "You mean when mommy started crying?"

Kate gave him a shy smile. "Yes, Alex, when I started crying. What did you think when Daddy said we'd be leaving?"

"Well—I don't know." He quirked his eyebrows up, all curiosity and wonderment. "Will it be like when we go to the beach for a whole week? A vacation?"

"Yes and no, Alex," Rick explained. "It means we won't be on the island anymore. We're going to Papeete first. Do you remember what Papeete is, Patrick?"

"The capital."

"That's right, the capital. Capital of what?"

"French Pol'nesia."

"Very good. But it's Pol-y-nesia. Ok?" Patrick nodded, shoulders thrown back and chest puffed out. Kate had to spin around on her stool so she didn't laugh out loud at her little scholar.

"Anyway," Rick stressed, giving his wife a wink, "we're going to be leaving. You guys remember how I got on our boat and left? Now, I didn't mean to leave right then, that was an accident due to the storm. But, I found other people and they all helped me get back to you guys. Now, we all get to leave."

"You were gone forever, Daddy. How long will we be gone?"

"I was gone forever because it took me weeks and weeks to find the other people. The ocean is really, really big, which is why we've never seen any boats while we've lived here. But now, other people know we're here. They didn't know, before. So we're going to leave the island and go live somewhere else now."

Alex's gaze pinned him in place. "You mean we're leaving and not coming back? Ever?"

"Yes, Alex, we're leaving. Remember how I told you that your mommy and I used to live in America? We'll be going back there." His whisper of '_I hope_' was caught only by his wife, who reached out and grabbed his hand.

"That's why we have all the baskets out here, guys," Kate added. "Dad and I have started putting stuff that we want to take with us on the boat and then to where we'll live next in the baskets. That's why the blocks and toys are in there. You don't need them tonight; we'll be too busy. But you need to tell us if there's anything we haven't packed that you want to bring."

"You-you-you mean we're not taking everything?" Patrick blinked his eyes, turning from one adult to the other. "W-w-why not just take everything?"

"There's not room, for one thing, Patrick. And we don't need things like our old plates. There'll be new ones where we go to live," Kate explained, with a small grin. Rick reached over and gave her a light pinch, though he had to admit he'd been ridiculous.

"What about our bed? And our house?" Alex whined. He couldn't imagine leaving his house behind. The only other place he'd ever slept was on the beach, and that was not comfortable at all. Especially in rain.

"We can't take them, and we won't need them. At first, we'll have beds on the boat, but later we'll have a new house, in America. It'll be different from our house here, but we'll find one we all like. But we'll never forget how great the house we lived in here has been. After all, your mom and I built it together. It's been a great place to live."

Patrick suddenly spoke up, the break in his voice reflecting his concern. "B-b-b-but what about—what about all our pets?"

"Uh, right. Your pets," Rick repeated, stalling for time. A desperate glance at Kate showed she was just as unsure as he was in terms of handling this.

"Yeah, our pets! You _know_ Daddy! Henrietta, Henny Penny, Loosey Goosey, Chicken Little and Turkey Lurkey. Those are the chickens. And there's Smaug, 'n Gandalf, the wizard lizard. They're comin' too, right?"

"Uh, well, you see, Patrick, um…"

Mercifully, his wife took over. "Patrick, the chickens can't come. There are too many of them, and they wouldn't like the boat ride. But, Daddy and I will talk to Ari'i. He comes from an island that's not too far away," she heard Rick cough at this little falsehood and kicked him under the table, "and I'll bet he'll be more than happy to take the chickens to his home. That way they can still live on an island, but they'll have someone looking after them."

Patrick's lip quivered and even Alex's eyes looked to be filling with tears as the reality of what their move was going to cost them began to set in for the first time. "A-a-and our lizards? They don't take up much room, promise."

"Sweetie, I know how much you love them. But I think they'd be happier staying here. Right now they have a whole big island to live on, and lots of other lizard friends to visit. They'll be lonely if we bring them with us."

Big, fat tears were now rolling down both boys cheeks. "They won't be lonely, they won't! They'll have me and Patrick. Please, Mom," Alex begged.

"Boys, I know it seems really hard, but your Mom's right. You're not going to have time to look after the lizards. They need to be warm; here on the island, that's easy. But on a boat, it's not. You'll understand when you see where we'll be sleeping on the boat when it gets here. And once we get to Papeete, there's going to be so much to see and do and learn about. Smaug and Gandalf can't go everywhere with us; they don't let lizards go in certain places. And we can't bring them to America, either."

"But why?" Patrick cried.

"They have special rules about lizards and animals. You'll understand one day, but they aren't coming."

Both boys sobbed in earnest. However, they were a close knit family—it was impossible not to be on an island with no other people to turn to. So, they both sought comfort in their parent's arms: Alex went to his father and Patrick to his mother. After the worst of the tears seemed to have been released, Rick decided to bring up a topic that might cheer them up somewhat.

"We're gonna be going in the boat to Papeete, like I said earlier. It'll take a few days though, 'cause Papeete is far away. But, once we get there you're gonna get to meet some special people. Do you know who's waiting there for you?"

The two boys had stopped crying and had listened intently to the information. Patrick didn't move, all snuggled up to his mother with his head on her chest, but Alex had leaned back, curious to know more. "Who, Dad?"

"Your Grandmother and Grandfather."

He pretended not to notice Kate's little glare. They'd discussed who made up their little family for many years with Alex; Patrick understood it less, given his age.

"Really? Grandmother Rodgers? And Grandpa Beckett? We'll get to meet them?"

"Yes! I already got to see my mother, your Grandmother. She came to visit Papeete before I got a chance to come find you guys."

"Why didn't she come with you to get us then?"

"Well, I was in a hurry to get to you and so it was better that she stayed in Papeete. Grandpa Beckett came after I left, so I haven't actually met him, just like you. And your Mom has never met my mother before, either. We'll all get to know each other better in Papeete."

"Are we going to meet a lot of people?"

"Yes, Alex, we are. But Mom and I will always be with you, no matter what. And you don't have to talk to them if you don't want to. Mom and I can talk for you if you're feeling nervous about something, ok?"

Alex wrapped his arms around him and settled back down onto his chest. Rick hoped that a few snuggles would get them through the rest of the trials to come. He knew that was asking a lot, and there was no way to shelter them from further hurt.

Didn't mean he couldn't wish for it.

* * *

**This is the penultimate chapter of what I've written. You'll see that the next chapter, while the longest I've written for this fic, also has a hard stop in terms of storytelling. I've had some of my beta readers recommend that I mark it complete and then work on the sequel. That option has several advantages: no one is wondering where the next chapter is, and this is a natural end of SP.**

**Yet, I've always envisioned this as a complete story. Plus, I was told by someone that I respect a lot in terms of fanfic that the sequel really needed to stand on its own. I have no idea at this time how big it will be. I do want to explore a lot of issues, and I also plan to continue the flashbacks from earlier times on the island—many have been asking about that, and yes, I plan to include them. But will it be 50 chapters? 70? 20? I have no idea.**

**I still haven't decided what to do. Perhaps leave it open, but make it clear that I'm still writing the next piece? I don't want to be accused of abandoning a story again—it's simply not true. I just don't have the luxury of time in terms of writing every day.**

**I do have some vacation coming up in April that I will use to write. I want this story finished as much as everyone else—believe me. I've been working on it over a year now, and while I love it, it needs to be brought to an end. Not by skipping what I want to do or compromising the story, but by truly finishing.**

**So, if you care what I do…and you're still reading this long freaking addendum, then let me know. **

**Also, I do not want to publish the last chapter on Castle Monday. (I have seen the ep—wasn't scary like I thought). I could publish tomorrow or Tuesday. Your choice.**


	73. Chapter 73: The End Is Just A Beginning

**This is it. Far, far too many people to thank—at least here. I started writing this 13 months ago, and now I sit here with tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat as it finally comes to an end. Thank you to everyone who's stuck with me through this odyssey. You all mean so much. It's the end of this journey, but the beginning of the next…..**

* * *

May, 2010

A rough edge snagged her finger as she traced the bamboo shoot that had been bent into the shape of a snowman.

Or a semblance of one, anyway. Rick had mouthed the answer to her when Alex had proudly presented the finished work to her just before the Christmas of 2006. He'd been almost six at the time, and so proud of the creation he'd made for their "tree" with the help of his father.

Tears threatened to spill over as she picked up each and every ornament that every year changed their scaffolding of bamboo from a plain cone into a Christmas tree. Handmade, each one. Of course. There was no question that they'd bring _all_ of them to their new home.

And, in reality, there was no need for her to pick each one up and recall how it had come into being, and at whose hands. All she'd needed to do was to place the basket housing them in the pile of things they were taking.

But, packing up ten years' worth of memories was a daunting task. Deciding what merited coming along. What wasn't important enough to bring. For ten years, they'd lived with very little in terms of possessions. There was no need for most items unless it was something that helped them survive. Or made their life a little more comfortable. Thus, by one measure, everything they had was important.

Yet, clearly, many things would be superfluous or obsolete once they returned to the reality of a world in which you could just buy whatever you needed. And if something broke, you threw it out and bought a new one. Sometimes, you bought more stuff just to have it.

The whole concept of consumerism had become foreign to her after living for a decade utterly dependent on what she and Rick could make with their own hands. If an item broke, they fixed it. Otherwise, they had to make it all over again.

Everything here held a memory—if not a whole bevy of them. Memories she was loath to give up. And, given that they really didn't have a lot of possessions to begin with, she felt that she could indulge her maudlin mood by considering each piece before packing it all into a basket.

Once they reached Papeete, she doubted she'd have much time on her own to reflect on their life here, at least for a while. Time would be a commodity sucked away from her by the demands of others: their family, their parents, the press. Even the government, as they tried to sort out their marriage and the births of the children.

Her stomach clenched at the thought of how much would be expected from her. She was a private person by nature, and she knew the insular life she'd led for so long hadn't improved her distaste for the spotlight she was about to be thrust into.

Yet, she knew it was necessary. Her children, her family, needed to live someplace with access to healthcare. To education. To other people. The boys had soaked up all the knowledge that she and Rick could impart—which was quite a lot, between the two of them. However, there was only so much one could do on an island without books, or music, or any of the cultural touchstones that most grew up with as a given.

She was proud of how she and Rick had raised them. They were self-sufficient, polite and curious. Though Alex was reserved (like his mother, she acknowledged), both he and Patrick had welcomed the strange men Rick had brought back with him and pestered them with questions about everything they'd brought. Such foreign items to two boys who'd never seen such exotic materials or technology.

It was time to go back. Time to help the boys spread their wings even further and learn to navigate the world of humans as fearlessly as they could navigate the lake and island where they'd been born. It was time to face the world.

* * *

"Kate?" Rick's voice called out.

"Here, babe."

She couldn't repress the big grin as he came bounding around the corner, arms full of empty baskets. They were too busy to be able to stay next to each other all the time, much as she wanted to. She still mourned the days they'd spent apart, and having him outside of her immediate sight worried a part of her brain that screamed silently in her head that he was still gone. Only the reassurance of his physical presence, so big and solid, shut that awful voice off.

"I emptied these baskets into some bigger ones. Thought you'd want them for whatever is still to be packed."

"There's not much left, now."

Her mournful tone made him do a double take, then he reached out and pulled her into his arms for a hug. As she relaxed against his muscular body, she knew that though the coming weeks and months would be difficult, she could face anything with Rick at her side.

"Are you ok?" he murmured into her hair as she burrowed as close to him as humanly possible. Well, in broad daylight with her kids running around, anyway.

"I will be. Just hard, knowing that everything is changing so fast." The crack in her voice demonstrated how difficult she was finding the rapid transition.

"But you know it's gonna be ok, right Kate? We're gonna be ok."

"I know. I _know _we will. You're back. That's all I really need."

He rocked her slightly, almost dancing with her. She wanted to melt into him and forget about the rest of the world for just one more day. Be alone with him like they'd been for those initial months. When they'd taken on impossible odds and succeeded, side by side.

But that world had been lost—save for the haze of her and Rick's memories. Reality in the form of Sarah squawking from her crib and the distant shouts of Patrick and Alex kept her grounded in what they'd accomplished. A rock solid relationship. A home. A family. And when they moved forward, starting today with the impending arrival of Ari'i's ship, they'd face that together as well. She could ask nothing more of the universe besides having her family united once more.

A wet, sloppy kiss interrupted her introspection. She looked up to see Rick wearing a loopy grin, waiting for her response.

"What was that for?"

"Because I love you, Mrs. Rodgers."

She couldn't suppress her answering grin and quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Oh, really? Just how much do you love me?"

His voice dropped an octave, sending frissons of excitement shooting through the nerves in her back. He had such a sexy voice, it was almost criminal.

"Well, I'd like nothing better than to show you," he replied, drawing her close once more into his arms. She clutched him tight, knees threatening to buckle as that wonderful, husky voice vibrated through the air with a resonant frequency that shook her bones free from their usual positions.

"There's just one problem," he continued.

"Hmm?" was the most intelligible response she was capable of, at the moment.

"You see, I'd need at least an hour—preferably two—to show you properly."

A pulse of desire flashed through her. Eyes closed as he essentially held her up, she reveled in the way he felt, enveloping her. He smelled—well, not quite like her Rick, though close to it.

Years without deodorant had accustomed her to his natural smell. She'd long stopped noticing body odor—his or hers. Nothing on the island could mask it, and honestly she found his scent reassuring. Sexy, even.

This clean shaven version of her husband also smelled…well, of soap. Something they'd not had for many, many years. In his arms, clinging to his familiar body, she inhaled deeply, ignoring the citrusy soap smell and seeking his essence. It was there—a combination of his own unique, musky scent with a tang of salt from the sea. It was a heady combination, and one she'd missed dreadfully while he'd been gone.

Eyes still shut, she turned her head into his chest and pressed her lips against the hard planes of his chest. "What exactly is the problem with a few hours?" she murmured, punctuating her question with light kisses to his pecs.

"I could name three right away, but beyond the kids? It's almost time for Ari'i to arrive. I was coming to tell you when you distracted me."

The reminder that the kids were running around was as effective as a bucketful of cold water. Not to mention the egregious lie her husband had just uttered. Stepping back, she poked him in the chest with a finger. Hard.

"I distracted you? Not hardly. _You_ distracted me!"

"Whaa? No, I'm innocent here."

She almost laughed at his faux outrage. Oh, how she'd missed his humor, as well. He could always get her to smile or laugh, no matter how anxious she was.

"You're about as innocent as Patrick was when we caught him climbing the very tree we'd warned him to stay out of just a few hours before."

Rick lost his virtuous look as he recalled the spine-chilling memory. "I never did like that particular candle nut tree," he mused. "It's so big and old, there are never very many nuts on it."

"But plenty of branches to tempt a certain monkey boy."

Rick chuckled, though with an edge that denoted how frightened he'd been at the time. "Do you remember how high he was? We could barely see him."

Kate shuddered. "I couldn't bear to look. I was so sure he was going to fall. You talked him down."

"More like bribed him down. I had to promise him a trip to the beach, remember? But it sure wasn't the last time we ever caught him climbing trees."

"True, but at least he wasn't four the next time. And he never went that high again."

"That we know about."

Kate laughed, a clear and bright sound that sent heated pulses through Rick's heart. He loved her laugh. It could be a warm, throaty chuckle or a deep guffaw. She had so many different ones, and he counted himself lucky to have had so much time with her, discovering them all. He'd recognize her laugh anywhere, and reveled in the sensation when he was responsible for eliciting one. "You're right, with a father who's still just an overgrown boy most of the time, who knows how many tall trees he really climbed?"

"Overgrown boy? Really, Kate? It's overgrown man. M-A-N." She'd moved back a few steps, so he pulled her in close, purposefully making contact with her body in as many places as possible.

And it was pleasurably possible to pull her in very close indeed.

"I'll show you just how…overgrown…I can be," he murmured. She was putty in his hands. Except, quite unexpectedly, this putty was squirming away.

"Where you goin'?" he protested, as she stepped a foot back. Far too distant for him to show her anything, even overgrown things.

"Didn't you hear them calling you?"

"Huh? Calling me?"

She rolled her eyes. It was the first eye roll he'd seen since his arrival yesterday, and he filed it away as another precious first. For as often as he elicited laughter and love from his beautiful wife, he also engendered plenty of eye rolls and occasional indignation when he did something to annoy her.

He'd like to think it wasn't too often, but he did love to push her buttons—occasionally. And when he was safely far enough away to avoid direct physical harm.

"Yes, Rick. Can't you hear them shouting your name?"

As if on cue, he heard a man's voice calling out just after she'd spoken.

Eerie.

"It must be time for you to go get Ari'i," Kate gulped. Time had flown by. The next few hours would be the beginning of the end of their time on the island.

Rick reached for her hands, squeezing them as he saw the tightness around her eyes and mouth. "Hey, this is a good thing. We're gonna be just as happy as we've been here, maybe even happier."

Kate's eyes bored into his, her look alone sufficient to convey her doubt.

"We will, Kate. We'll have the security of living without scrapping every instant to merely survive. We'll have our family, our friends. And we'll get to see our kids discover things they've never imagined."

His eyes crinkled in the endearing way they always did when he was giving her the big smile that was hers alone as he tugged gently on her hands. "C'mon, Mrs. Rodgers. Let's go start the rest of our lives together."

* * *

The rhythmic lapping of waves at the side of the wooden tender gave rise to conflicting feelings. He'd come to abhor the sound when he was adrift on his boat of bamboo. Alone for weeks, it had been the only sound he heard—the sound of the ocean trying to tear his fragile vessel apart. That, and the sound of his own voice, crying out for his family.

But talking to himself made him feel as though he were losing his tenuous grip on reality, so he often stayed quiet until he couldn't take the sound of the seeking sea anymore.

In the end, his time with Kate and his children had almost seemed a dream. The only hard facts were the endless waves, the unrelenting radiation from the sun, and the dearth of food. Pleasant memories of a family were a mirage, at best.

And here was that melody of madness once more, vibrating through the air—and through him, viscerally. Yet, this time…this time, it was jubilation that sang through his mind. An acoustic ascendancy over their enemy, Grollet. A celebration of their triumph over tragedy and hardship. A fanfare for their family.

They'd made it.

He was in the bow of the tender, signaling to Ari'i the corrections needed to keep the little ship on a collision-free course through the palisade of sharp rocks whose teeth longed to tear the boat apart.

Tamahere followed in the smaller Zodiac, having discussed the best route through the barricade with Rick on the way to the _Vaitiare_. The tender was quite large—it had to carry cargo to islands that lacked a dock in water deep enough to accommodate the full ship. Rick had forgotten just how big it seemed, until he and Ari'i started the harrowing trek through the clawing slabs that lurked, unseen, in the depths until it was too late.

Now it felt as though the tender were far too large to make it unscathed to the channel into the interior; with any pilot besides Ari'i or Tamahere, Rick wouldn't have made the attempt. The three of them knew each other; they had no need for verbal discussions to navigate. Rick's gestures were instantly understood and obeyed by the captain. A year of service under Anapa had melded them into a tight team. Lessons that even a full ten years later were not forgotten.

Sweat dripped down his face, stinging his eyes. He dared not wipe it away: they were in the trickiest portion, just before bursting through into the clear in front of the beaches. He wasn't scared; nothing terrible would happen if they lost this boat. Tamahere was right behind them, and the sea was quite calm this morning, as if wanting to make up for pinioning their craft all those years ago onto an island that became both their salvation and their prison.

No, he wasn't scared of the passage. He just wanted this part over and done with so they could load up and start the long journey home. An odyssey that had begun in Papeete in 1999, and in a few days would come full circle.

Ten minutes later they were in the clear. Rick made his way to the stern, watching as Tamahere made his final maneuvers to safely escape the gauntlet. Salesi was with him; while the two hadn't known each other for long, they'd both been raised at the fickle breast of the ocean. They made a good pairing in the more flexible Zodiac.

"This is the beach where you fished and made salt?" Ari'i inquired.

"Yes, this longer one here," Rick gestured at the bigger beach. "We landed there with the Zodiac and left most of the AFP men behind until I knew Kate and the kids were ok."

"Do we need to stop here for anything?"

"No, they brought all their stuff with them when they came to the interior. And Kate and I don't ever leave anything but the bamboo scaffolding for the shelter when we leave each time."

"So, straight into that little opening? It looks bigger now, but I'm still not sure we'll fit."

Rick laughed. "We made it through that harrowing minefield and you're worried about the channel? Believe me, we'll fit. But, if it's ok with you, I'll take the controls. I'd like to give you the chance to see it without worrying about navigating through it."

Ari'i nodded his head, stepping around as Rick took the wheel. He watched as Rick brought the tender inexorably closer to what appeared from afar to be seamless rock, but up closer was apparently a crack in the face of the cliffs that towered over the plain of the sea's surface.

It wasn't until they were nearly at the opening that it became clear how large it was.

"I'm not surprised this island has never been considered habitable," Ari'i marveled. "I can't believe you took such a chance on your makeshift raft from the _Iriata_."

"Didn't have much of a choice. Once I saw there was an opening I just aimed for it and prayed I was right."

"Don't think many would have done that."

"Well, it's a good thing they weren't on a leaky raft just off a sinking ship. Desperation is a motivating factor unlike any other."

"You've got a point. Wow, this is really something," Ari'i gaped as the walls of the channel embraced their little processional.

"I wish you could experience it from a canoe seat. The quiet makes it feel like you're in a grand cathedral, with sunlight dappling the walls as it's filtered through the leaves of the vegetation at the top of the cliffs. Even the kids are quiet when we pass through here."

"I think it is a cathedral, Hopo. This magnificent corridor led to your deliverance from a sure death. A reprieve, though, I'll grant you, not an easy one. But nothing worth having is easy, is it? Your preservation was the beginning of your relationship with Kate. You'd never have gotten to know her if the wreck hadn't happened."

"That's true. Though, I'd rather have gotten to know her better in a lifeboat, rescued eventually with the others. But, I don't regret any of our time together here. The constant anxiety over our health, our kids,…our food supply wasn't fun. And when I was thrown in jail I began to wonder if we'd ever be allowed a normal life. A chance to raise our children like other families. But, it seems as though my prayers have been answered. Through Tamahere, Afaitu, my mother and you…you've all helped me accomplish something that I wasn't sure was possible. I can't thank you enough." Rick could feel stinging in his eyes again, though he couldn't blame the sea spray this time. He tried to swallow past the lump in his throat, concentrating on keeping the tender in the middle of the channel. They were nearing the veil of vegetation that marked the entrance to the lake.

"It was never a question of whether I'd help, Hopo. More a question of how. You are part of my family, my crewmate. And we don't leave family behind."

Rick nodded, unable to speak. He pointed with his chin at the curtain of vines that were rapidly approaching. Ari'i took the hint and gazed with appreciation at the beautiful barrier.

"Past this lays the lake?" he asked, though from his reading of Rick's story he knew the answer.

"Yes," was Rick's hoarse reply.

"You must have been so relieved to see that it wasn't a dead end. I can't imagine the feelings at the time…knowing you had a safe place to make a start."

"It was a welcome sight, that's for sure."

Then they were in the middle of the greenery, temporarily blinded before breaking through to the lake. The bright sun reflecting off the tranquil surface of the lake was just as blinding, until Ari'i pulled his sunglasses down from the top of his head.

He'd imagined this sight many times in the past week, after reading Hopo's descriptions. No mere words could have prepared him for the real thing. Perhaps it was made more piquant by the knowledge of what his friend and Kate had been through. Or of believing with the rest of the world that they'd been lost in a tragic accident, only to discover it was all a lie. A lie fostered by the most powerful man of his country.

Whatever the reason, the view of the sapphire blue lake cradled by the surrounding cliffs with their profusion of green, all set against the royal blue of the cloudless sky—well, it would be a hard man who didn't find a few tears in his eyes. Especially knowing that the mission was to rescue a family so deserving of nothing but the best life had to offer.

Ari'i was no hard man. Silently, he clasped one hand onto Rick's broad shoulder. They stood together, one offering solidarity to the other as they skimmed across the lake to bring a final end to the exile of Richard Rodgers and Katherine Beckett.

* * *

The welcoming committee—which consisted of everyone on the island—was visible even across the lake.

Rick pulled himself together. He had a job to do. They needed to load the tender with all that they were bringing. The Zodiac would carry the original crew and equipment, minus him of course. There ought to be enough space for Kate and the kids, along with all their stuff. Fortunately, memories weren't corporeal, or they'd require an aircraft carrier.

"Should we anchor off shore? The dock you see there is not very sturdy. We don't really use it much. Not one of my better ideas."

"I'd just run her aground," Ari'i answered. At Rick's raised eyebrows, he continued, "Well, it's all sand or gravel here, right?"

Rick nodded. "Yeah, it's not as fine as the sand on the beaches. Not enough wave motion in here. But it won't hurt the hull."

"There are plenty of men to help launch her later. Just run her in, it'll make it easier to load everything."

Rick could see that while he'd been gone, Kate and the rest had carried most of the baskets down near the shore. They'd not had time to get everything, plus lacking Salesi meant that they'd been missing the strongest man of all, but they'd made a good dent. He aimed for the beach nearest the pile and cut the motor just before they scraped bottom. It was a perfect beaching, with just enough of the bow out of the water that she wouldn't float back in, but not so much that re-launching would be difficult.

"Daddy, daddy," the boys shouted, rocketing up to the tender as soon as Kate gave them the ok.

"Hey, boys. This is the ship we'll take to the _Vaitiare_, and this is her captain and my friend, Ari'i."

"Hello, boys. You must be Alex and Patrick," Ari'i knelt down on the beach after jumping out of the boat. The boys had stopped jumping, but were slightly hesitant of the new man in their midst.

At least for a second.

"Hello, M. Ari'i, it's nice to meet you," Patrick held out his hand. Rick almost laughed. Apparently, some lessons in manners had been held while he was gone.

"Nice to meet you, too," Ari'i replied, shaking both offered hands. Alex hadn't said much, no surprise.

"I like your tattoos," Patrick added. "May we see the boat, please?"

Ari'i nodded, straightening up with a curious look on his face as the two boys clambered over the side of the boat, exclaiming over the smooth wood and the size of the vessel.

"I'm quite surprised," Ari'i confessed to Rick as they moved to join the others. "Most non-Polynesian kids are frightened of my facial tattoos."

Kate had overheard his remarks and laughed, handing a beaming Sarah over to her father. Rick was happy to take her; it seemed he'd been accepted once more by his youngest.

"Our kids _are_ Polynesians, Ari'i," Kate replied, giving the man a quick hug. "Thanks for bringing Rick back to me, and for all that you've done for us."

"It's been a pleasure, Kate. So glad to see reports of your death so long ago were just lies told by a madman."

"You and me both. As far as the tattoos go, we've spent quite a bit of time talking about Polynesia in general and customs here. Without some long ago group seeding this island, we'd have been hurting when it came to food diversity. I don't know very much, but Rick's year living here and sailing from island to island gave him a good background."

"Well, at least enough to satisfy two young boys," Rick qualified. He kissed Kate quickly, then returned to the topic at hand. "We talked about tattoos several times, and the boys and I foraged for some of the plants and seeds for dyes. I painted them both up with temporary tattoos, including their faces. I wasn't sure how they'd react to you, as you're yet another stranger, but I was pretty sure they wouldn't think twice about the tattoos."

Tamahere and Salesi joined them, having beached the Zodiac as well.

"We ready to get this boat packed?" Tamahere exclaimed. He was nearly as enthusiastic as Alex and Patrick.

"I think we are," Rick answered, looking closely at Kate. Her tight smile showed her agreement, though he knew she was still struggling with the rapid pace of events.

They had plenty of help, even with Ari'i as the sole addition from the main ship. Since he and Kate had done so much work the night before in consolidating everything into baskets, as much as possible, they didn't need more muscle. And the extra room saved meant that it should only take one trip to load everything.

Which meant that once they cast off, it was the last they'd see of the island. Rick could see that Kate had done the math in her head, and the results were difficult for her to accept.

"Why don't you guys load the Zodiac, first," Rick nodded to Laurent. "It won't take long, since you packed up camp this morning."

Agreeing, they walked off, while Salesi trekked to the kitchen to gather the bamboo calendar. It would go in first, as most of the rest could just sit on top of it. Rick gave his former crewmates a silent plea while gathering Kate into his arms. They understood his unvoiced request, and followed Salesi to see if he needed help. Sarah didn't seem to mind being squished between her parents, for the moment at least.

"You ready for this?" He felt her tremble.

"Thought so," she replied, unable to hide the mournful tone.

"We'll have days before we get to Papeete, Kate. Time to adjust to the idea a bit."

"I know. It's just…for so long all I wanted was to get off this rock, you know, after we were first marooned?"

"I remember. I kept wanting to build a home, and you wanted to set up rescue beacons."

"I was so sure someone would be looking for us; that all this was just temporary. That I'd go back to my life in New York, with this whole experience a funny story, once I got over the horror of being left for dead by Grollet. I'd go to the Police Academy, like I planned. Somehow retrieve my dad from the bottom of a bottle. We'd be a family again, united by what had happened to us, not driven apart."

"Oh, Kate. You never said anything."

"We weren't that close yet, then. And once we were closer, there was the whole specter of January looming over me. Rescue took a back burner to that first anniversary."

"But we got through it, together. It united us, in a manner of speaking."

Kate released a strangled sigh. "It did. I learned to trust you. I opened up to you. And once we became…more…, well, then? Then I didn't need to be rescued. I had you, and the life we were able to build."

"You've still got me, Kate. That's never going to change. Never," Rick whispered, kissing her between words. He wasn't sure he could make this better for her, other than showing that they'd face the new world as a family. "You know, all that time I spent away from you guys, on the boat, then in prison? I always felt like I'd been rent in two. Part of me still here with you. Wherever you go, that's my home, Kate Rodgers. You're my home."

He heard and felt his wife sniffling. Somehow Sarah had managed to be quiet this whole time, and even though he was holding her snug on one shoulder, he still looked over to make sure she was still there. His ninja daughter was capable of mischief in all manner of ways. Yet, it seemed as though she understood there was a time and a place to misbehave. She was content, for the moment.

"Thank you for being so understanding, Rick. I know it probably seems silly, especially after all we've been through. It's not that I don't want to leave…not exactly."

"Shhh, Kate," he murmured, swaying gently to rock them. "I'm gonna miss this place, too. This island will always play a huge role in our lives. No matter where we end up. And the kids will probably always be Polynesians at heart, especially the boys."

Kate giggled—just a tiny laugh, but still a laugh. He held the two most important women in his life tight to his chest and rocked for a few minutes more, until he felt Kate draw away. Sarah had somehow fallen asleep, which was probably a blessing.

"Why don't you take Sarah and go sit under your mom's tree for a while? Let us manly men pack the boat."

"Are you sure? I can help pack as much as anyone," she protested.

"Yes, but someone needs to keep an eye on Sarah. First thing we'd know, she'd be in the boat sailing out of here on her own. She's a wily one, this girl. And it'll give you a bit more time to come to grips with all of this."

He slid Sarah over to her; they were both pros at exchanging sleeping infants without waking them. He watched as Kate stepped carefully to the orchard area, then he hurried to find Laurent and his camera. After a brief conversation, he was ready to get everyone to begin stowing all of their stuff aboard the tender.

With all of the men, as well as the best efforts of Alex and Patrick, it took no more than an hour to have it all stowed and secured. The work of ten years, reduced to a pile of baskets and bamboo in the bottom of a tender. Rick stood, staring at it. Lost in his own memories; sad that it all seemed pointless to bring with them.

A tugging on his left arm caused him to find his youngest son trying to get his attention.

"Why do you look sad, Daddy?"

Rick knelt down, bringing their heads close to the same height. "I'm sad because I always thought we had all that we needed, but now that I look at this pile, it just seems…it just seems, well, sad."

Patrick regarded him with wide, open eyes. His brows were slightly furrowed as he thought about what his father had just said.

"I-I-I thought you teached me that everythin' we ever need is the rest of our family. You an-and Mommy, and Alex and Sarah. You said we were your treasures. 'Member?"

Rick just stared at his son for a moment, heart swelling with love for his little family. "C'mere and give me a hug, Patrick." With his son in his arms and his truthful words ringing in his ears, Rick knew it was time to go.

"Do you know where Alex is?"

"He's over there, with Tama'ere," Patrick pointed to the Zodiac.

"Run get him, then we'll all go and get your mom and Sarah. It's time to leave."

"Oh, boy, oh boy!"

A few minutes later, Rick was walking to the orchard, holding a little hand in each of his. The others were making their final preparations to cast off, and Rick had asked Salesi to look around both the kitchen and the house to make sure nothing was left behind. He didn't want either Kate or the boys to go back to the structures now: they'd said their goodbyes this morning, and nothing would be gained by seeing them looking empty and forlorn.

Kate's heart leapt into her throat as she watched her men walking into the clearing where Rick had planted the now large tree so long ago. She stood, Sarah still sleeping in her arms, and walked to them. They met in the middle of the grassy plain, jungle surrounding them just as it had when they'd first landed here a decade ago.

"Are you ready, Mrs. Rodgers?" her husband asked, look and tone questioning her.

"It's time," she stated. Not a question. A fact. It was time. He released Alex's hand and nodded for their oldest to take up Patrick's hand on the other side. Then, Rick turned back to her and held out his hand for her to grasp. She was forcibly reminded of his look when he'd handed her onto the rope crane they'd used to load their makeshift raft on the _Iriata_. She'd known it was time to leave then, the sinking ship no longer able to give the illusion of safety.

They'd embarked on a journey into the unknown, with the only guarantee that they couldn't stay on the ship. And, they'd found a home. A refuge. An oasis that had nurtured them, albeit through hard work, into what they were now.

And once again, she knew it was time. They needed to leave the island now, to grow further and farther than its foundation could provide.

She took his hand, and they moved as one: forward, and to the future.

_Fin_

* * *

**So, I will mark this complete, for now. There is still quite a lot of story to go, and I've already begun writing it. If there is a ton (and yes, it will include flashbacks to their earlier years on the island, just as this one did) AND it's large enough to stand on its own, then a sequel will be born—Surviving Civilization, if you will. If it's really just a continuation of this and not enough to be separate, then I'll add it to this story. So, stay tuned.**

**The rest of this A/N will be devoted to giving thanks and explaining where I got this idea from. No need to read it if you don't want to.**

**There are far too many people to thank, but I'm going to highlight a few.**

**First, AtheaTahiti for all her PMs and reviews discussing what life is actually like for a Polynesian _in_ French Polynesia. I learned so much from her that is simply not available on the internet (at least in English). Thank you so very much!**

**Thank you to Alex (caffinate-me) for all the advice over the course of this story. **

**Thank you to Lou and for reading and critiquing it, and cheerleading for me to keep going.**

**Thank you to WanderlustInternational for reading, critiquing and teaching me all about how an Embassy works. Your insights have been invaluable.**

**Thank you to Sylvia (erinn80) for the incredible artwork she's created based on this A/U world.**

**Thank you to Adriana for all the support.**

**Thank you to Erica for reading it at night and sending me your thoughts. For meeting me at El Meson to discuss it over delicious Mexican food. And especially for introducing me to Castle in the first place!**

**Thank you to CharacterDriven for writing a vignette based on this world. Hilarious!**

**Thank you to Ric for making me smile every time.**

**Thank you to sKyoKun and Anakin David for being my French connections. Really appreciate the help!**

**Thank you to all of the incredible readers and reviewers. I love you all for your support and enthusiasm for the story. There's just too many to go through, but I am so grateful to you all.**

**Finally, a huge thanks and virtual hug to Garrae. For putting up with my whining. For reading it all and making it better. For cheering me on and occasionally snapping the whip. I'm not sure I'd be at this point without you, my friend. You're the best.**

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**This story springs from several books that I've read and loved. First and foremost were **_**the Swiss Family Robinson**_** and **_**Robinson Crusoe**_**. Reading those as a kid introduced me to the topic of surviving on a desert island. My imagination went wild over the incredible inventions the family came up with in order to live comfortably in the **_**Swiss Family Robinson**_** book. I loved their treehouse, and it led me to a lifetime of enjoying books about people who survive against incredible odds through their own ingenuity.**

_**Treasure Island**_** wasn't tropical, but had a similar theme, though involving a kid. This was fascinating to the young me. **

**I devoured every Walter Farley book available, and still own most of them. **_**The Black Stallion: The Island Stallion**_** influenced this fic tremendously in the sense that both islands looked impenetrable from the outside, but contained a secret interior that is discovered by accident by the heroes of the book.**

_**The Count of Monte Cristo**_**—while much of it is really an epic story of revenge, the idea of a man coming back into the world after being removed (though in the case of Edmond Dantes it was prison for his exile)—and taking back his life was completely mesmerizing. I read it as a teenager, and while I didn't understand the politics of that era, the story stuck with me.**

**More recently, I read **_**On the Island**_** which deals with a plane crash that strands a teenage boy and his tutor in the Maldives. **

**All of these books, plus movies like **_**The Blue Lagoon **_**and **_**Castaway**_** gave rise to a desire to write a story dealing with similar circumstances. When I discovered fan fic about a year and a half ago, that desire was fanned into a flame.**

**I almost decided against the whole idea when Travis—Lord of Kavaca—wrote **_**Solid Ground**_**. However, as I read that fic, I realized we diverged radically outside of the survival on an island theme. It did mean I had to abandon my original idea of creating a plane crash to strand them. And I quickly realized there was no way I could fake my way through a sail boat wreck—I've never sailed in my life, and the research was overwhelming me. Luckily, I stumbled across the idea of a cargo ship—which really do provide the lifeline of supplies for most of the islands—and the rest? Well, you've read it. **

**So, thank you all, dear readers. You've inspired me at times when I've felt down and sent my heart soaring into the stratosphere with your amazing comments and love for this story. I'm humbled by your response, and hope to see you all with the next installment of this fic. **

**Thank you. **


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